Killer Mine
by Nocte Ambulavero
Summary: Khan wakens to the face of a woman, a doctor, who may hold the key to his escape - and his heart. As he falls deeper and deeper into Marcus's plots, so also does he fall for her, and when Marcus takes her from him, not even the whole of the Federation can stop him from getting her back. Khan/OC; Rated M for sex.
1. Prologue

**AN: In my mind, if Khan were ever to find a lover, she would have to be stunningly intelligent, for we all know Khan suffers no fools. On top of that, in order for any story to fit into Into Darkness, I believe he would have to have met her way before the London bombings - there's simply no time for a believable romance to happen after that. And so, without further ado, I introduce you to Sophia Summers.**

**Please review - feedback is much appreciated!**

Prologue

2258.110

It was raining.

Sophia Summers looked out of the window of her London office, tapping her pen absently against her desk as she watched sheets of rain fall from the grey clouds above to the grey pavement below. The pitter-patter of droplets striking the glass of the window drew her attention, and she watched with a sort of detached fascination as beads of water chased each other across the pane. It reminded her of the bacterial gene transposition she'd just been observing — random, unpredictable.

Then again, she mused to herself, nearly everything reminded her of her work. Her older brother had affectionately termed her "lab rat" during her high school years, a nickname that had been less affectionately shortened to just "rat" as they grew older.

A knock on the door drew her from her thoughts.

"Enter," she called softly.

The door slid open to reveal her assistant Mark, though she didn't think of him that way. He was almost fifteen years her senior, and no matter that she was lauded as a prodigy of her field, she couldn't bring herself to think of him as her subordinate, and she most certainly couldn't think of herself as his boss. Besides, with his always pristinely-ironed shirts and his polished leather shoes, he had the sort of distinction that hardly lent itself to passing her equipment that she was perfectly capable of getting herself. And so, she did her own thing, and Mark did some other thing, and they really only communicated when they were arguing over whose turn it was to make coffee.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

Mark hesitated, and she felt a wave of apprehension go through her. Mark never hesitated. She'd always had the sense that he'd taken it as some sort of personal insult that he'd been assigned to assist someone so much less experienced than he, and he never had a problem speaking his mind.

"Admiral Marcus is here to see you."

It was the last thing she had expected, and the sense of apprehension grew stronger. Of Starfleet's seven current admirals, Marcus was well known as the most aggressive, the most eager to develop new weapons. They'd never crossed paths before, never had any reason to, and no matter how hard she racked her brain, Sophia could think of no plausible explanation for his presence here, at her office in the medical center of Starfleet's London headquarters.

"Did he-"

"Just that it was urgent."

She sighed, but nodded.

"Send him in."

Mark left, straightening his collar and cuffs as he went, and Sophia figured he had the right idea. Even though Marcus really had nothing to do with her job or even her field, he still wielded incredible amounts of power within Starfleet and the Federation, and she thought it best to make a good impression. Using her PADD as a mirror, she patted the sides of her chignon to make sure that her dark brown hair was lying flat and then hastily reached to check that the badge on her chest was straight. She never wore makeup, and so she had just enough time to smooth her white lab coat before the doors opened, this time with no warning.

She stood as Marcus entered, flanked by a nondescript man who wore no identifying markings other than the standard Starfleet pin on his black shirt, and saluted smartly. Marcus waved his hand for her to sit down and then took the seat in front of her desk.

Sophia watched as he made himself comfortable, laying his hat on the edge of her desk and stretching his legs out in front of him. He wasn't a particularly large man, she thought, with his medium height and his medium build, but something about the way he carried himself made it obvious that he was, and certainly believed himself to be, a man of great importance.

"You're a molecular geneticist," he said with no preamble.

Sophia, slightly taken aback by his abruptness, nodded.

"Yes sir. I've been working for Starfleet for five years, ever since I graduated medical school."

"And you're the best at what you do."

She could feel a blush heating her cheeks, and she cursed both her overactive blood vessels and the paleness of her skin. She was young enough that earning respect from her comrades and superiors was hard enough, and turning redder than a cherry tomato certainly wasn't going to help her situation.

"Some believe so, sir."

"Now don't be modest girl, I have reports that you were the one to identify the metastatic tumor gene for lymphoma. Saved a lot of lives, you did."

The blush deepened, and at this point, she gave up on trying to repress it. She didn't like talking about her accomplishments, never had, and didn't make a secret of that fact. She'd refused any interviews after her discovery had rocked the scientific community, and had sternly instructed her media-hungry parents to do the same. She did what she did because she loved genetics, and because she believed that whatever long-forgotten deity had gifted her with her intelligence had done so with the expectation that she would use it to help others.

"I was a part of the team that made that discovery, yes," she conceded.

His azure eyes narrowed, and she fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. She could certainly see how he had earned his reputation. He might not have been the most intimidating man she'd ever met, but there was some sort of cruel spark in his icy gaze that made her distinctly uncomfortable.

"Sir," she began, inwardly sighing in relief when the weight of his gaze on her seemed to lessen by a ton or two. "If I may be so bold as to ask why you're here? I know I am a good geneticist, but I'm hardly capable of making weapons or building starships. I don't see how I could be of any use to you."

"On the contrary Lieutenant Summers, your work with genetics is exactly why I'm here. You see, I came to offer you a job."

For the second time that day, Sophia found herself at a loss for words. Not only was Marcus, Admiral Marcus, here, but he was offering her a new post. Instantly, her mind flashed to what a military officer could possibly want with a doctor, and for one horrible moment, she thought he was asking her to help him develop biological weapons. It was true that many earth and extraterrestrial diseases had been cured or at least become treatable over the last few centuries, but there were still illnesses that medicine couldn't seem to conquer. She'd been working her entire career to fix that, and she started to panic as she tried to wrap her head around what she thought Marcus was asking of her.

His sudden laugh interrupted her thought.

"Calm down doctor," he chortled, the cruel intensity in his gaze sharpening as he laughed at her expense. "I'm not asking you to create the next anthrax bomb. I just need your help sequencing some DNA."

She breathed an audible sigh of relief. Sequencing DNA was something she could do. Sequencing DNA was something she loved to do. And even though that made her the biggest kind of nerd there was, she adored her work completely and unapologetically.

"May I ask whose DNA I would be working on?"

Marcus's eyes lost the humor but none of the cruelty, and she swallowed nervously.

"That's the other part of the job, doctor. Complete secrecy."

It was only then that she realized that the red light that signaled that the door was locked had been activated, and that the man who had entered with the Admiral was incredibly large and muscled. She didn't watch a lot movies, but she was almost ninety nine percent certain that this was usually the part where they held her down and tortured compliance out of her. And, while she had many qualities, she was also certain that _immune to torture_ did not make the list.

"What kind of complete secrecy?" she ventured cautiously.

"You will live in a secured compound. You will be able to leave only with permission, and your contact with the outside will be limited. No one will be allowed to know what you're doing or who you're working for."

He said it so matter-of-factly, as if telling her that she would essentially be trading her freedom for her work was something he told tons of people every day, that she had the horrifying urge to giggle.

"What exactly would I be doing?" she asked once she was sure that words and not laughter would emerge from her mouth.

"I can't tell you that doctor. Not until you agree to my terms. There can be no risk that this information travels outside of the Section."

The Section? She'd never heard of it. In her head, she quickly did the math and concluded that Admiral Marcus had come to her office asking her to move to a top secret facility to work on some top secret project that she wasn't even allowed to know about until she agreed to his top secret contract. She sighed. She wasn't cut out for this kind of spy or whatever it was work. That was why she was a scientist and a doctor. Because she was much more at home with a pair of goggles and a microscope than she was with people.

But, she told herself, it was only DNA sequencing. Not much harm could come from that. And, if it was such important information that he couldn't tell her about it until she accepted his proposal, it must be some sort of special DNA. Alien, maybe? Whatever it was, it certainly wouldn't be something she would encounter in her routine lab work, and if she was honest with herself, her curiosity was piqued.

"How long would I be working for you?"

"As long as it takes. Your pay will be doubled for the duration of your stay with us, and I can guarantee that your position here will be waiting for you when you return.

Sophia bit her lip. Despite the fact that the whole affair had a decidedly suspicious smell to it, she had to admit that the opportunity sounded promising. She would get to work with DNA samples no one in her field had ever had the chance to study, her job would still be here when she finished, and her pay would be doubled. The last part didn't matter so much to her, money had never been something she'd counted as important, but she had been eyeing some new equipment for her lab at home that a pay raise certainly would make more affordable.

Her stomach a roiling mass of butterflies — she never did anything this rash, ever, not in her entire life — she nodded.

"I accept."


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

2258.113

"Did you gain weight?"

Sophia Summers felt her cheeks go crimson as she slapped her hand over the PADD's screen, as if doing so would negate the fact that the entire room had probably heard her mother's comment.

"Covering the screen doesn't stop me from seeing you Sophia, and I'm almost certain that you gained some weight. Did you start eating more?"

"I'm at _work_, mom," she mumbled, ducking her head so that her brown-black hair could cover her flaming cheeks. "People can hear you."

"They're probably thinking the same thing."

Sophia sighed. Until three days ago, she'd been working at Starfleet's London headquarters in the medical facility, working to sequence alien DNA and isolate genes that could potentially cure diseases. Three days ago, however, Admiral Marcus had approached her with a job offer — to sequence novel DNA under complete secrecy, and while she hadn't been crazy about the secret part, she had been about the novel part, and so she'd packed a bag and allowed herself to be shipped off to a facility she now knew was designated Section 31.

The military-like base was located under the London archives, a library for all intensive purposes, which made it the perfect cover for the veritable pantheon of scientific minds that worked under the asphalt to "create weapons designed to protect the Federation from potential threats," as Marcus had put it. When she'd accepted the offer to work here however, she had not understood just how secret "complete secrecy" had meant. Her PADD had been confiscated and replaced with one that had no access to outside communications, and any and all contact with non-base personnel had to be done with supervision, which explained why a half dozen of her new coworkers had just heard her mother call her fat.

"I haven't gained weight mom," she hedged. "And I would appreciate it if we could switch subjects. How's dad?"

Both of her parents were high-profile lawyers who worked in Cambridge, Massachusetts, the city she'd grown up in, and she didn't see them very often. After her assignment to London five years ago, weekly visits had dropped to monthly, and then yearly, and then they'd stopped all together. The time from Cambridge to London was only an hour or so on fast transports, but Elena and Patrick Summers had never been particularly involved parents, and Sophia suspected that they'd seen no reason to waste an few hours going to see their only daughter when a video call would suffice.

"He's the same as always. Anyway, I have to go — a new client and all. I'll speak with you later Sophia, and do try to start eating less."

She signed off without any further goodbyes, leaving Sophia to stare at her now blank-screened PADD and wonder how she and her mother could possibly be related. After concluding that they in fact weren't, and that the nurse at the hospital had probably given her to the wrong parents when she'd been born, she stood to leave, studiously ignoring the looks that she could feel following her out of the room.

A quick check of her watch told her that she had roughly ten minutes before her lunch break was over, and she hurried to make it back to her lab in time. The compound wasn't massive, but it was still rather large and was crowded with everyone from astro to nuclear physicists, and she had to dodge quite a few bodies to make it back to the medical wing.

As Section 31 was mostly interested in weapons, there were few other doctors here — only two that she knew of — and they mostly stuck to their own work, which was, she suspected, a great deal more interesting than her own. For the last few days, she'd been sequencing what she'd rapidly identified as Klingon DNA, a sort of test she assumed. Marcus may have hired her, but he hardly seemed the type to trust her with what was obviously sensitive material before she proved herself. And so, she'd played his game without making any noise and hoped that she'd be done with it soon.

When she stepped into the lab, she realized that her wish may have come true sooner than she'd expected.

Marcus was waiting for her in the large white room, his hands clasped behind his back as he bent over the bacterial cultures that were incubating under a lamp. His azure eyes were narrowed, and she was certain that if he leaned any closer, his nose would be pressed into the petri dishes.

"Those are toxic Admiral, please be careful."

He made no indication he'd heard her other than to lean back a centimeter or two, and she waited patiently for him to finish whatever he was doing. She knew very well that he had no idea what type of bacteria she was studying and surmised that he was more interested in the rather alarming shade of green that the cultures had turned. Either way, she knew it was best not to interrupt him — three days had been ample time for her to learn that Admiral Marcus was neither a magnanimous nor a patient man — and she quietly slid her lab coat back on while he finished his inspection.

"Doctor," he said suddenly, without turning around. "Did you finish with the sample I gave you?"

"Yes sir. I did this morning."

"Good," he said, and finally turned to face her, his icy stare seeming to go right through her, as if she didn't exist. "Follow me."

Without waiting for her to acknowledge him, he turned on his heel and led her towards the back door of the lab, one she hadn't yet tried to open but had seen the other doctors pass through occasionally. He led her through it and into a brightly lit corridor that greatly resembled a hospital, a likeness that only intensified as he turned into a room and gestured for her to follow.

The space in front of her was painted white, and all the appliances were steel and titanium. Tricorders and hyposprays and all other sorts of medical equipment lay on polished countertops, and a chrome sink sat in the corner. An array of screens and monitors were attached to the wall, but none of this was what truly caught her attention. Not the fancy technology or the sharp smell of antiseptic or the harsh glare of the lights that made her squint. No, it was the giant, empty cryotube and the man who lay on the bed next to it.

"Holy shit," she gasped, and then clapped her hand over her mouth as her cheeks went crimson. "Sorry sir, I-"

"No need to apologize doctor. Had much the same reaction myself the first time I saw him."

The "him" the Admiral was referring to lay motionless on the bed, all sorts of monitors strapped to him, with an IV in his arm. Even lying down, she could tell he was extremely tall, six foot at least, and there was no mistaking the power in his body, even prone. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Marcus who he was, when her eyes slid over the cryotube a second time, and the realization that it was a _cryotube_ really hit her.

"Admiral?" she asked. "Is that-, is he-"

She took a deep breath.

"What's going on?"

"This, doctor, is who you'll be working on. We found him a couple of days ago in his ship, floating in space."

"By himself?"

Marcus's eyes narrowed.

"Not important. What is important is that we revived him, but he's in an induced coma. All I want for you to do is do a medical exam and then give me a full map of his DNA."

Sophia's mind was whirling so fast that she felt dizzy. Whoever this man was, he'd been frozen and floating in space, until Marcus had found and revived him. But now he was in an induced coma, and a very large part of her was sure that it wasn't with his consent. And, if it wasn't, then she couldn't work on him, not with a clear conscience. She might have focused more on the science aspect of her career in the last few years, but she was a doctor above all else, sworn to help those in need while following a strict ethics code that certainly didn't allow experimenting on an unconscious man without his permission.

"I don't think-, does he know what's happening?" she asked.

"He woke briefly when we reanimated him. Enough for us to explain what's happening."

She wasn't one hundred percent sure she believed him and turned to question him further, but the look on his face stopped her.

"I wasn't asking, doctor," he said quietly, face hard. "You will do the exam, and you will run his DNA for me."

She swallowed. Marcus's expression brooked no room for argument, and the cruel expectation in his eyes, as if he was _waiting_ for her to defy him, chilled her to the bone. She was suddenly very aware of the fact that not only was she alone in a room with him, but that she was in a compound filled with people who supported his ideals and were loyal to him. Everything in her told her that she needed to leave, now, but she hadn't graduated medical school at twenty because she was stupid, and logic told her that leaving was not in her very short list of options.

"If I refuse?" she asked shakily.

She had no idea why she asked. It really didn't seem like a big deal to just run the damn tests. A few blood samples he wouldn't even feel her extracting, a quick physical examination, and a scan with her tricorder was really all it would take, but she just couldn't bring herself to agree to what she saw as a huge violation of her oaths as a doctor. She had no idea who this man was, only knew that he had apparently been frozen for God only knew how long, and that Admiral Marcus, a man infamous for his desire to design and promote new weapons, wanted his DNA. There was nothing about that that sounded right to her, and she forced herself to hold his gaze as she waited for his answer.

"Your brother is a communications officer aboard the _USS Defiant_, is he not?"

She blanched. She and Christian didn't get along very well, and their relationship was distant at best, but he was still her brother.

"I'll do your tests, Admiral."

"Good. I expect the physical exam to be done by tomorrow morning with a full report. Take your time with the DNA."

He offered her a smile that made her sick to her stomach before leaving the room, and as soon as he was gone, she collapsed back against the wall.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," she mumbled.

She'd known Marcus was a dangerous man, heard stories that he was aggressive, manipulative. But never in her wildest dreams could she ever have imagined that a Starfleet Admiral would blackmail her into helping with what she was increasingly sure was some sort of underhanded operation. Just to be sure she wasn't dreaming, she pinched herself, hard, but all that got her was a slight throb and an angry red patch on her skin.

Her gaze flickered to the man on the bed.

Whoever he was, he was important enough for Marcus to threaten her over, important enough to warrant a full sequencing of his DNA. Her first thought was alien, because she could think of no reason to sequence human DNA no matter who he was, but she dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. Whatever else he was, the man was most decidedly not alien.

_Just a routine exam_ she told herself. _Just one vial of blood and some tests. _

Her mental pep-talk did little to calm her nerves or to assuage her guilt as she detached herself from the wall and pulled on a pair of gloves. She'd never been a practicing doctor, having gone straight into Starfleet's research branch after graduation, but she still knew that this violated every moral code in the book. The fact that she had no choice, that Christian's safety was on the line, didn't make her feel any better. She bit her lip as she started running her tricorder over his body, making notes on her PADD as she went.

She worked in silence for a while, not really paying attention to what information went across the screen, focused solely on getting this done, when something caught her eye. Increased bone density, the tricorder told her. Heavily increased bone density. She scanned again, just to make sure she was reading right, and then felt her eyes widen when she got the same results. And then, despite her misgivings about the situation, despite her disgust with what she was being forced to do, she felt her curiosity pique, and she put down her PADD to focus more intently on the tricorder readings.

What she found made her gasp.

Increased bone density, increased muscle mass. Better lung efficiency. More rods and cones on his retinas and larger pupils. There were more hair cells in his cochleas and more receptor cells in his olfactory bulb. On top of that, there was evidence of increased grey matter in his brain. She'd never been one for profanity, but for the second time that day, she found herself muttering, "holy shit" out loud.

Who _was_ this man?

Hands shaking, she set the tricorder down and reached for an extractor to take a blood sample. She stepped closer to him, shifting the sleeve of his hospital gown so she had clear access to his bicep, and pressed the extractor to his pale skin. But as her thumb moved to press the activation button, she gasped, because the world suddenly blurred, and her stomach lurched, and when her head stopped spinning she was lying on her back, staring up into the most furious pair of eyes she'd ever seen.

**AN: I realize that twenty is incredibly young to graduate medical school, but, as I mentioned in the prologue, any woman who Khan falls in love with would have to be exceptionally brilliant. Also, this is 2258, and I decided to play with their schooling system a bit. Sophia entered medical school right after high school, and as she mentions, entered Starfleet right after that. **

**Please review!**


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

2258.113

Blood.

Memories came rushing back to Khan in waves — of waking up, of being surrounded by people he didn't know, of being beaten until he answered their questions. He'd been weak after waking from his cryosleep, and it had infuriated him that he couldn't fight back as they'd demanded answers to who he was, where he'd come from. They'd threatened his crew, and so he'd answered, biding his time until his strength returned. But before it had, they'd drugged him, and his last thought as he'd slipped unconscious was that when he woke again, he would demand retribution in blood.

The woman below him however, had not been one of the ones who had woken him. With her dark brown-black curls that spread out across the pillow in a silken wave, and her chocolate brown eyes that watched him with the most arousing combination of fear and anger — he would have remembered a face like that. Still, she was here, obviously working for whoever had taken him captive, and it was with little remorse that he wrapped a hand around her throat and pressed her into the mattress.

"Who are you?" he hissed. "And do not try lying to me. I can assure you it won't work."

"Sophia Summers," she gasped, working to get her breath from under his hand. "Starfleet doctor."

The name Starfleet wasn't familiar to him, and he frowned. The people who had woken him had not bothered to tell him where, or when, he was.

"What year is it?" he demanded.

"T-twenty-two fifty-eight."

He eased his hand on her throat as he thought, his mind whirling as he realized that he and his crew had been asleep for more than two and a half centuries. And then, at the thought of his crew, his hand retightened, and his lips drew back in a snarl. She might not be directly responsible for whatever had happened to them, but right now, she was all he had to go by, and he would not let the fact that he was half-hard at the feel of her under him stop him from getting the answers he wanted.

"Where is my crew?" he asked, his voice quieter.

But, _smart girl_, she wasn't fooled by it, and the fear in her eyes increased as she shook her head.

"I don't know," she whispered. "Admiral Marcus wouldn't tell me."

Her eyes were bright, but there was no sign of a lie in them, and he was inclined to think that she was telling the truth. Besides that, the pulse underneath his thumb was still fluttering wildly, but it hadn't picked up or changed at her admission. He leaned back, slightly mollified, and allowed himself to take a real look at her for the first time since he'd woken.

The first thing that he noticed was that she was young, much too young to be wearing the doctor's jacket that draped over her shoulders. Her pale skin was smooth and unlined, and there was an innocent vitality about her that could only come from youth. Smart then, he concluded. Very smart, to be a doctor at her age.

The second thing he noticed was that he would not mind fucking her.

The thought was crude, and he acknowledged that. He was also well aware of the fact that she was human, but though his last memories of humans were of them hunting down him and his people, he was also only a man. She wasn't the most stunning woman he'd ever seen, but with her huge brown eyes and the way her blush turned her pale skin to cream and roses, he wasn't averse to the thought of having her. It was an interesting idea, and one he would have spent a great deal more time on had the situation not been so urgent. But it was, and he was nothing if not ruthless in his efficiency, so he filed away that thought for later and focused on what was important.

"I'm going to let you up now," he said slowly. "But if you try to run, or if you scream, I will kill you. Are we clear?"

She nodded, and he shifted off of the bed, watching as she moved so that she was perched on the edge of it. Her hands were clasped nervously in her lap, and he could practically see the waves of anxiety coming off of her, but she met his gaze with her own, and he found he could respect that. She might have been human, and female, but there was something admirable about being able to look into the eyes of the person who had just held you by your throat and threatened your life. He observed her carefully.

Now that his initial anger was gone, he was much more in control of himself. Oh, he was still angry, there was no doubt about that, but now it was better reigned in, better directed. As a dictator he'd been many things, but unfair was not one of them, and he was not so ignorant as to believe that it would be just to punish the woman in front of him for what had happened. He would, however, get what answers from her that he could.

"What is Starfleet?" he asked.

"An intergalactic organization designed to explore new worlds. It also has small military capabilities, should it need to defend the Federation, which is-, when are you from?"

His eyes narrowed further, but he didn't think she was prying, and answered "the late twentieth century."

"It's kind of like the United Nations, but for planets instead of countries."

He found that he was genuinely surprised and genuinely pleased by her answer. He did not like feeling stupid, and the fact that she had asked him when he was from made it clear that she did not blame his lack of knowledge on a lack of intelligence. Besides that, if this Federation was like the UN, only on a larger scale, then he had a good idea of what it was and what it did.

"And you work for them?" he continued.

She nodded.

"For five years. I'm a molecular geneticist who takes alien DNA and tries to find genes that can cure diseases."

He didn't quite know what to make of that. On one hand, he had a rather nasty history with molecular geneticists. They had created him, and then they had tried to destroy him, so he had destroyed them. On the other hand, if her work involved curing diseases, he could hardly see her trying to design the latest super-humans. Which, he thought, begged the question of why she was here.

"Why are you working for this Marcus?" he asked.

She'd seemed to be relaxing as their conversation progressed, something he wasn't quite sure how he felt about, but at the mention of Marcus, she tensed up all over again.

"I'd rather not talk about it," she answered tightly.

He was on her in a flash. He'd never been above using his size and strength to intimidate, and he did it now, placing his hands on either side of her hips on the mattress and leaning froward to invade her personal space. In turn, she leaned back, a startled gasp escaping her lips.

"It was not a question," he said softly.

This close, he could smell her shampoo or perfume or whatever it was she used, and the pleasant scent of strawberries and roses filled the air, just strong enough to entice his heightened senses. Annoyed, he shook off the thought.

"Answer me, Sophia," he pressed.

"He told me I would just be sequencing DNA," she whispered. "I didn't know that you would be here or even that you existed, and when I refused, he threatened my brother."

His mind whirled. Her admission had opened up a dozen new possibilities to him. If she wasn't working for Marcus of her own free will, then she could be converted. The right pushing and coaxing could get her on his side. He fought the urge to smile. He was very, very good at manipulation. But then, as he looked at her, he realized that he might not have to resort to those kinds of tactics. She was almost certainly angry at Marcus, and while her intelligence wasn't augmented, she was obviously smart, and she would not have taken kindly to Marcus's deception. Besides that, if she had given her compliance only to protect her family, then that was something he could respect. He would not reward her loyalty with more trickery.

"Sophia," he said.

She seemed almost scared to look at him, and he found he didn't like that. Without thinking, he tucked two fingers under her chin and coaxed her eyes upward. The feel of her skin on his own, _when he wasn't strangling her_, he thought wryly, was incredibly pleasing, and he allowed himself to stroke his thumb over her jaw before he dropped his hand.

"Sophia," he repeated. "I will not punish you for things beyond your control."

Far from seeming relieved, she seemed even more wary, and he admitted that his statement might have been less than comforting. The promise that he wouldn't harm her was also a declaration that he could, if he so chose, and of course she would have picked up on that. He sighed.

"You are currently my only connection to this world right now," he started, "and it would hardly be to my benefit to either harm you or frighten you."

She seemed to think about that for a minute before nodding.

"And," he continued. "I believe you would not be averse to any…plans I had concerning Admiral Marcus."

At this she hesitated, and he understood why. Marcus may have wronged her, but he was still, by her own account, an Admiral. He wasn't sure what the year twenty-two fifty-eight was like, but he was almost certain that the rank of Admiral, in any time, meant someone of incredible importance. Only a fool wouldn't think twice about crossing someone with that type of power.

"Listen, Sophia. I don't know what the man wants any more than you do. For all we know, he might just be exceptionally curious about what twentieth century…humans are like, and I'm hardly going to kill him if I don't have a reason. But I won't lie to you, he threatened my crew to get answers from me when I first woke, and if he does so again, I will not sit by complacently."

"I understand," she said quietly.

"Good. Now the first thing I need to know is where I am."

"London, in a place called Section 31."

She frowned.

"I didn't even know it existed until Marcus hired me three days ago. It's a secret compound that designs weapons."

"Weapons?"

"Starfleet isn't a militarized organization, but Marcus says they're to protect us from alien species that might do us harm."

The thought that a military man had woken him did not sit well with him. He had been born and bred to be, above all else, a weapon, and he had been used as such for the majority of his thirty-four years. He would not allow that to happen again.

"Do you know why he woke me?" he asked.

"No. Like I said, he just told me to do a medical exam and then a DNA sequencing."

She might not have known anything, but Khan certainly did. Even now, his mind was going through a list of possible outcomes, and not a single one involved his release. He scowled, and then fought to keep the rest of his growing anger out of his face and body. It would not do to frighten her now, when he had just started to gain her trust. She was the only ally, or potential ally, he had in his current situation, and he would have need of her later.

"Listen to me carefully," he said. "Whatever misgivings you have about the situation, I can assure you that Marcus is not doing this for the benefit of your Federation. Did he tell you who I am or where I come from?"

He hadn't told the Admiral everything about his past when he'd woken, but with the information he had been forced to give, it wouldn't have taken anyone with access to a history book very long to uncover the rest of the story. The Eugenics Wars had torn apart a large percentage of human civilization, and the Augments who had perpetrated it were as infamous as the war itself.

"My name is Khan," he said softly. "I was created in 1962."

"Created?"

"How far did you get in your exam, doctor?"

"I was almost done. I just needed a blood sample, and then-"

"Then you know that I am different from you. I was created doctor, at the beginnings of the Earth's Eugenics movement, designed to lead the world at a time when it was torn apart by the Cold War. I was built faster than the average human, stronger, smarter. I was built _better_. My people were called Augments, and when our creators had no more use for us, we were hunted to near extinction. My crew and I were the only ones to escape, and we put ourselves into those cryotubes, hoping that when we awoke, we would find the world a changed place."

He purposely left out parts of the story. He wasn't comfortable discussing his past with a virtual stranger in the first place, necessary though it was to gain her sympathy, and he didn't think she needed to hear about the part where he'd been supreme ruler of over a quarter of the Earth. He doubted she would have taken kindly to that.

"Whatever this Marcus wants with me, I can guarantee you that it is not any sort of noble pursuit. He knows much of what I just told you, and no good can come from using the skills I was created to have."

She bit her lip.

"What do you want me to do?"

Despite his efforts to contain it, Khan was sure that at least a little bit of his surprise showed on his face. He'd been trying to talk her around to helping him, yes, but he hadn't expected her to see that. Humans were notorious for believing that they were in fact the ones who had control of the situation, even when they most obviously weren't, and he hadn't expected any different from her. The fact that she had seen that he was manipulating her piqued his curiosity, as well as made him more eager to acquire her support.

"I want you to do what he asked you to do."

It seemed his answer was the last thing she'd expected, and her brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Why?"

"Because, as I told you, Marcus already knows the majority of my history. If he bothered to do any research, he would know about my heightened senses and intelligence, about my increased speed and strength. Lying to him would only arouse his suspicions, and it could very well get you punished. Either way, you would no longer have his trust, and that is something I desperately need right now — for him to trust you. I'm not asking you to kill him or spy on him Sophia, I just need you to gain his trust and to please, not tell him that I've woken."

He wasn't one hundred percent sure that it was wise to pretend he was still unconscious, but the time alone and undisturbed would allow him to think, to plan. This world was new to him, as was his situation, and he would prefer time to sort through what he knew and to gather more information before he played Marcus's game.

"That makes sense," she nodded.

"Then we have an understanding?"

Again, she nodded, and he leaned back, pleased.

He ordered her to switch positions with him, and then sat still as she collected what samples she needed. He would not admit it, but the changes in medical technology fascinated him, especially the fact that they had learned to extract blood without causing pain or being invasive. The IV in his arm was another matter, however, and he fought the urge to ask her to remove it. With his increased healing abilities, his muscles and tissues were already trying to reform around the needle, and if he didn't take it out soon, it was going to be bloody painful trying to yank it out later on. He sighed. If he took it out, it would arouse suspicion, so he allowed it to remain.

"Khan?"

She had not yet spoken his name, and he admitted that he rather liked the sound of it coming from her lips.

"Yes?"

"How are you awake?"

At first he didn't understand her question, but when she gestured to the IV, he realized that there was a slightly numb feeling in the arm to which it was attached. A sedative, he concluded. It had to have been strong, to keep him out cold as long as it had, but the fact that the dosage hadn't been upped alerted him to the fact that Marcus was not aware of his healing or regenerative abilities. He was also aware of the fact that Sophia knew now, or would, as soon as she did his DNA profile.

"My cells regenerate much faster than yours do," he said slowly. "They adapt much more quickly. There is little I do not heal from or can not become immune to, given enough time."

"You're immune to the sedative?"

Far from seeming impressed, she looked horrified. His first thought was that it was fear, but upon closer inspection, he saw that she looked concerned.

"Does that mean you're immune to painkillers?"

Confused, he nodded.

"What if you get hurt?"

The sudden realization that she was scared, not of him, but _for_ him, caused an odd itching under his skin that he wasn't sure he liked. Frowning, he just shrugged.

"Then it hurts."

She nodded, seeming to accept that, and turned back to whatever it was she was doing. He watched her as she worked. Now that he'd decided she wasn't an enemy, he allowed himself to take more time to look at her. She was petite, no more than five foot four if he had to take a guess, and she probably wouldn't weigh a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. Not then, he thought with some amusement, an Augment. No, this woman was as far from his warrior sisters as was possible, and a part of him liked that. He admired strength of course, all of his people did, but there was something appealing about the softness of her face, of her body. Something innately feminine that called to a part of him he hadn't paid any attention to in a very long time.

His eyes traced the lines of her face, the way her hair tumbled down to the middle of her back. He was quite aware that nothing would come from it — he had a job to do, and he had never been the sort of man to be distracted by the promise of temporary pleasure — but she was a beautiful woman, and it would not do any harm to look at her.

"I'm done," she said a while later.

She looked at him, her PADD tucked under one arm, a tray of blood and saliva and skin samples in her hands.

"So you are," he murmured.

Hiding his irritation, he lay back down on the bed, replacing the blanket around his hips and making sure that his IV was still taped in place. Everything in him rebelled at playing submissive and complacent while his crew was being held captive somewhere, but it was what he had to do, and he would do so with grace. Sighing, he turned his head to look at her.

"Remember Sophia," he said quietly. "Give Marcus what he wants. I will not risk you losing his trust, and I will not risk him hurting you. Give him what he wants, and leave the rest to me."

She nodded.

"Okay," she answered, in equally sort tones.

"Okay."

He turned his head and did not watch her as she left.

**AN: So finally, we get to meet our hero! I realize that there's not the violence and bloodshed you all probably expected from this chapter, after all, it's ****_Khan_****, but I've never seen him as one for senseless violence. No matter his savagery and his ruthlessness, he is above all else incredibly intelligent, and he knows where to assign blame and when he needs to take a different approach to things. He realizes that he's at a serious disadvantage in his situation, and he's doing what he needs to fix that. **

**Anyway, I hope that you like my interpretation of him, and as always, please review!**


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

2258.116

_"Who are you?"_

_The words were hissed at her from the mouth of the most savagely beautiful man she'd ever seen, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe._

_His hair was darker than even hers, a black so deep, it shone fairly blue in the harsh glare of the lights. His blue-grey eyes were stormy under raven brows, and his face was carved in lines of marble so sharp she could cut herself on them. What truly struck her though, what truly captured her and held her speechless, was the power that emanated from feel of that much raw energy coiled above her, ready to strike, had her panicking and breathless at the same time. _

I know this man_ something in her mind whispered. _I know this memory.

_But even as she thought the words, something changed. The hand at her throat eased, moving to trace a gentle line between her breasts to her stomach. The eyes that glared so furiously at her turned from blue ice to blue fire, smoldering with something she couldn't name as they dropped to her mouth. And his own mouth, the one that had worn that feral snarl so well, eased into something infinitely more sensuous as it descended to hers, just barely brushing across her lips as-_

_The door to the room slammed open, and the man above her leapt to his feet. He roared something unintelligible as uniformed men poured into the room. She felt herself scream, felt the vibrations in her throat and felt the sound pulsing in her ears, but she couldn't hear it. She couldn't hear, she couldn't move. All she could do was stand there as uniforms flooded the room and grabbed him, as they dragged him away. And then, her hearing suddenly returned, and she watched in horror as one of the uniforms transformed into Admiral Marcus, his eyes cruel as he said, "my deepest thanks doctor. This man's blood is going to make me a fortune."_

_She stood rooted to the spot as Marcus left, his soldiers dragging her captor with them._

Khan_ her mind whispered_. His name is Khan.

Sophia woke with a scream lodged in her throat, her hand flying to her chest to feel her heartbeat pounding at a million miles an hour, her breathing as labored as if she'd just run a marathon. The knowledge that it had just been a dream did little to calm her, and her hand shook as it reached for the glass of water in front of her.

She'd fallen asleep at her desk. Marcus had provided her a small office adjoined to the lab, and she vaguely recalled coming here after she'd finished conducting the needed tests for Khan's physical. A glance down at her PADD, it's screen still lit with the Starfleet symbol, reminded her why. She remembered looking at the results of the tests she'd run, remembered putting them into his file before deleting them just as quickly. She remembered sitting at her desk with her face in her hands as she stared and stared and stared at the report and agonized about what she was supposed to do next.

There was no way she could tell Marcus what she'd discovered. If she did, Khan would become the most wanted man in the entire Federation, as scientists from every quadrant of the known galaxy sought to study and exploit his DNA. The man's cells could regenerate and repair themselves with a near frightening efficiency and a speed she'd never seen another organism come close to matching. If his ability to heal became public knowledge, he'd never see freedom. He'd be a lab rat, nothing more, and very possibly less, and his crew would stand no chance of being freed.

The knowledge that Marcus was an Admiral and could quite literally tear her life apart if he so chose, she shoved to the back of her mind, and with her hands shaking worse than they had before, she woke up her PADD and sent the edited file to Marcus before she could do something smart, like add the deleted information back. When she was done, she collapsed back in her chair.

She had never been a superstitious person, had never put much stock in things that science couldn't explain, but even if she tried to tell herself otherwise, she knew that a large portion of what she'd just done had been because of her dream. As she sat alone in the dark, the only light in the room coming from her PADD screen, she played it over and over in her head, swallowing as she realized she'd just made what was easily the stupidest decision of her life because of a dream about a man she wasn't even sure she liked.

_You liked him well enough when he was kissing you._

She blushed all sorts of shades of red when she remembered what it'd felt like for Khan, even if it had been only a projection of him, to look at her with his icy eyes as he'd touched her, kissed her. The fact that her first encounter with him had been him choking her half to death seemed to have had no impact on her subconscious, and she blushed harder as she realized that it hadn't really had any impact on her conscious interpretation of him either. He was quite easily the most handsome man she'd ever seen, and his voice was pure sin, as low and smooth as it was. But despite all that, despite all of his physical beauty, it had been the way he'd handled himself that had truly ensnared her.

After Marcus had threatened Christian, after he'd demanded she break her vows as a doctor, and after she'd agreed to, she'd been a mess. Even now, she easily recalled the panic and the desperation she'd felt when she'd realized that she was in way over her head — just as easily as she remembered the calm that had followed as soon as Khan had started speaking.

He'd put her at ease with nothing more than a few, simple words. Not because he'd been particularly comforting, and certainly not because he'd been attempting to soothe her, but because he was so assured of himself that it was impossible _not_ to feel calm. He'd just woken from being drugged, after he'd woken from a two and a half century cryosleep, and the man had already been forming plans, cementing alliances. He'd spoken with such surety and such authority that she hadn't even thought about not listening. He was most certainly a man who was used to wielding power, she'd thought.

She smiled wryly. Wouldn't he be just be tickled pink when he found out she'd done exactly what he'd told her not to?

* * *

He wasn't tickled pink.

They'd woken him three days later, and though she wasn't there when they'd done it, she'd known they had. It was only an hour after she'd sent Marcus the completed — edited — DNA profile, that he'd messaged her Khan had been woken. Of course, he hadn't called him Khan, merely "the subject," but there had been no mistaking his meaning. Along with the memo however, he'd also sent another set of instructions — replicate Khan's DNA.

The orders hadn't surprised her. In fact, part of her had been expecting them. Even without the genes for cellular regeneration, Khan's DNA was a study in eugenic perfection, and she'd known Marcus would want to capitalize on that. She'd also known that, should she be given the orders to try and clone his DNA, she would have to pretend she couldn't. The process of DNA replication in a lab was much like DNA replication that occurred naturally in cells, and involved unwinding the double helix to access a blueprint of nucleotides. She could think of no way to remove certain genes however, not without damaging the integrity of the entire strand, and so she'd known she would have to pretend to be unable to complete the task.

What she hadn't expected, was to actually be unable to complete the task.

Every time she unwound the double helix, the two halves would spontaneously degrade, until there was no way she could use them as templates for unpaired nucleotides. It happened every time without fail, as if his DNA had been programmed to self-destruct should it be tampered with. Part of her was annoyed — she had spent her entire life studying DNA after all, and it frustrated her that she couldn't figure this out — but the other part of her was incredibly impressed. Whoever had created Khan had built a failsafe into his very genes. Should he have been captured, no other scientist would be able to use him to create more Augments. It was devious and brilliant all at the same time, and the scientist in her was fascinated.

She'd struggled for several days with the samples she had, rather relieved that she didn't have to lie to Marcus again, before she'd burned through whatever blood she'd taken from him that first day. It was with a mixture of dread and anticipation that she realized she'd need to see him again, at least to take more samples, and she set out with no small amount of nerves to the room she'd heard he'd been assigned.

She hadn't even knocked on the door before it slid open.

The sight of him standing in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest and his icy gaze icier than the last time she'd seen it, struck her momentarily speechless, and it was him who spoke first.

"More samples, doctor?"

There was something wrong, that much she could tell. His voice was tight, and there was a steady tic in his jaw. She nodded silently, and stepped past him when he gestured for her to enter.

The first thing she noticed was that his room wasn't really a room. It was a lab. Nothing like hers, with her medical equipment and scanners and computers, but an engineer's lab. Tools littered the various tables, and projects that looked like they were in various stages of completion were scattered randomly around the space. Large sheets of paper had a multitude of sketches on them and several were tacked to the walls. Khan seemed to notice her preoccupation, and he made a vague sweeping gesture with his hand as he closed the door behind her.

"Marcus finally decided what he wanted me to do. I'm to design weapons for him."

She looked at the magnitude of projects around her, as well as at how much progress he'd made, and frowned.

"It's only been a couple of days. How-"

"I told you Sophia. I was created _better_. What takes your scientists days takes me hours."

She nodded, accepting that, and moved to place her PADD and hyposprays on an empty stretch of table. Before she could turn to face him however, she felt him against her back. All of the air rushed out of her lungs in a startled breath as her brain struggled to come to terms with the fact that there was a man pressed very intimately against her, and she swallowed convulsively.

"Khan?" she asked hesitantly.

"I asked you one, very simple thing Sophia. To give Marcus what he wanted."

His voice was soft, like black velvet, but she knew that he was the kind of person who was more dangerous when he was calm.

"One very small thing. Imagine my surprise when I was woken and he made no mention of my superior healing abilities."

His lips were right against her ear, brushing against her skin with every word he spoke, and she felt her breath hitch.

In the seven days since she'd last seen him, she'd thought about little else besides Khan. The way he'd so effortlessly taken control of the situation around him, the way he'd sacrificed himself for his crew. There was something incredibly heroic about that second part, and she'd found that she had no small amount of respect for the man. But she would have been lying to herself if she didn't admit that the memory of him on top of her hadn't been the most prominent factor in her thoughts.

He was incredibly tall, and possessed the kind of lean musculature she expected a swimmer would have. His shoulders were broad and tapered into a narrowed waist, and she'd been able to feel the hard cut of his muscles against her, even underneath his shirt. Of course, her experience with men was about as extensive as her experience with spy work, but she wasn't blind. The man was absolutely gorgeous, and now he was pressed so close to her, she could feel his chest expand with every breath he took.

"You disobeyed me, Sophia," he continued. "Now why would you ever do that?"

She swallowed nervously.

"I was trying to protect you," she whispered.

"How very, very sweet of you."

He spun her around suddenly, so quickly she was dizzy for a second.

"Foolish human. Infatuated already?"

His words didn't make any sense to her, and she shook her head, confused.

"What are you-"

"You believe that because I made a deal with you that day that that makes you important to me? That you need to protect me? There is no relationship between us Sophia, so remove any idea of such from your mind."

She couldn't speak for a moment, too shocked to do anything except stare at him. He had completely misinterpreted the meaning behind her actions, and now fury unlike anything she'd ever seen from him lit his eyes.

"Stupid girl," he continued. "By lying to Marcus, you've risked his anger and the safety of my crew. And for what, girlish ideas of romance? Did you expect I would fall at your feet in gratitude for protecting me?"

"No!"

The world escaped her lips with a force she hadn't expected, and she felt her cheeks go crimson.

"No," she repeated, softer this time. "I didn't do it because I was…attracted to you."

"No?"

The word, so much more dangerous sounding when sliding from his lips, hung in the air.

"You didn't do it because you expected something from me? Because you thought that I would feel something for you if you did? Because you wanted something?"

His voice dropped an octave, the fury in his eyes burning brighter, even as it mixed with some other, indefinable emotion.

"Perhaps a kiss?"

And then, before she could say anything else, before she could disagree with him or tell him he was crazy, before she had time to do anything except gasp, his lips were on hers.

It was nothing like her dream, nothing like the gentle brush of lips she'd envisioned. Khan's mouth was almost brutal against hers, his lips hard and demanding. Shock reverberated through her as her mind scrambled to catch up with what her body knew was happening, and she gasped. Khan wasted no time taking advantage of her parted lips, and his tongue swept between them into her mouth. A low snarl worked its way out of his throat, and she shivered.

She didn't need more than one hand to count the number of times she'd been kissed, and never had she felt anything like the power in Khan's hand as it slid into her hair to anchor her mouth to his. Never felt anything like the sensual slide of his tongue against hers as he devoured her mouth. Before she knew what she was doing, she was kissing him back, sliding her hands into his hair and trying to pull him closer. She moaned softly, and the sound only seemed to drive him further. He growled, and his hips pressed hard against hers, backing her into the table and holding her there.

The feel of his erection, hard and huge and pressing insistently against her stomach, made her cheeks flame, and she whimpered. The sound seemed to please him, and he kissed her harder, tongue sweeping against hers as his hand tightened in her hair, just enough to border on painful. The feeling of that combined with the heat of his body and the absolute dominance of his mouth made it impossible to think. All she knew was that she wanted him more in that moment than she'd ever wanted anything in his life.

His lips broke from hers, but she couldn't protest, as they made their way down her jaw to her throat. He wasn't gentle about that either, biting hard at her pulse point, and she was certain there would be a mark there later. There was not, however, a single part of her that cared, and she arched her neck to give him better access. A muttered "fuck" escaped his lips, and his hips bucked hard against her. His lips moved again, this time to her ear, and he said one, single word, his voice a guttural snarl that was absolutely feral in nature.

"_More_."


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

2258.120

Fuck, but she was sweet.

Khan couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted a woman this much, couldn't remember the last time he'd been this hard. His cock _throbbed_ with the need to be inside of her. He needed to fuck her, or he was going to combust.

Her mouth was like a drug, her lips soft and full under his, while the tentative touches of her tongue to his made him hotter than anything ever had before. She was petite and not particularly curvy, but she was soft in all the places a woman should be, and he groaned as he pressed her closer to his much harder frame. And her hair. It was long and thick and felt like silk as it slid between his fingers, and he couldn't help but tighten his grip until she made one of those delicious little sounds in the back of her throat.

Those sounds would be the death of him.

Her soft little whimpers were the sexiest thing he'd ever heard, and his hips jerked involuntarily, his cock demanding to be inside of her. Growling, he moved one hand from her hair to her waist, wrenching her forward to meet his erection. His head was spinning, and his body was on fire, and nothing in the world could have stopped him in that moment.

Nothing except the feel of her Starfleet pin brushing his hand as he reached for the zipper of her jacket.

With a muttered curse, he jerked away, stepping back so quickly Sophia wobbled on her feet. Without his prompting, his hand shot out to steady her, and then he cursed louder and backed up father. His breathing still ragged, he looked at her.

Fuck. He shouldn't have looked at her.

Her hair was mussed from where he'd gripped it, and her lips were raw and swollen from his kisses. There was a slight glaze to her eyes, and the most appealing flush dyed her cheeks. In short, she looked like sex, and every part of his body demanded that he go back over there and fuck her senseless. Groaning, he shut his eyes and forced himself to think about the fact that she was in Starfleet, forced himself to think about the fact that he had been, and still was, furious with her.

When Marcus had come to wake him for the second time, after he'd pretended to wake for the second time, he'd fully expected to have enough blood drawn to put him unconscious again. Marcus would have read Sophia's report, and he would have known about his regenerative abilities. But when no more samples had been taken, when no more tests had been run, he'd realized that Sophia must have lied. There was no way that a man like Marcus, who had wasted no time telling him that he either designed weapons or his crew died, would have passed up on the idea of regenerative blood.

The knowledge that her actions could have angered Marcus, could have endangered his crew, had infuriated him, and he'd spent the better part of his four days alone planning various ways he could kill her. He didn't like to hurt woman, never had, but his life as a soldier had taught him that there was no room for chivalry on the battlefield, and for his crew, he would have done anything. He'd well intended to make her pay in screams and pleas for her actions, but now, as he looked at her again against his better judgement, the ideas of screams and pleas took on a completely different meaning.

He growled in frustration.

He hadn't intended to kiss her, hadn't even intended to touch her. He'd used his body to intimate her, yes, used it to make her realize how powerless she was against him, but he hadn't intended for it to go beyond that. But when she'd looked at him with those chocolate eyes shining with a mixture of fear and determination, when her lower lip had quivered even as she defied him, he'd gotten so hard it hurt.

Sex and dominance had always gone hand in hand for him, had always been so closely intertwined that he couldn't separate the one form the other. He'd been created to be the ultimate warrior, the ultimate alpha male, and he'd never shied away from who he was. Still, there was a firm line between submissive and weak, especially outside of the bedroom, and when Sophia had looked up at him with that perfect combination of submission and defiance, it'd been impossible for his body _not_ to react.

"Khan?"

God, even her voice made him want her.

"What?" he answered, hating the way it came out just the slightest bit raspy.

"I-, I didn't not tell Marcus because I liked you. I did it because I didn't want him to lock you up and never give you a chance to free your crew."

He frowned at that. Of course she would say the one thing that would catch his attention. He wasn't fooled, he knew that she'd wanted him as much during that kiss as he had wanted her, but he didn't think she was lying about trying to help him save his crew. Of all the things she struck him as, a liar was not one of them, and he growled now as he realized he'd just effectively made a fool of himself.

"Khan?"

"I believe you."

Her eyes went wide, but he ignored her and turned to stalk over to his desk. Plans for the starship Marcus had commissioned were spread over the wooden surface, and he pushed them aside, disgusted. He had been ruthless and had ruled with an iron fist, but he had never resorted to blackmail, and what Marcus was doing not only infuriated him, but disgusted him as well. Irritated, he shoved his blueprints aside and grabbed his PADD.

Modern technology had been difficult at first. He had trained to fight and kill with guns, with swords — with his bare hands if necessary. Never had he seen the need to familiarize himself with technology when their were others who could do what he'd considered too tame to matter, but he'd quickly learned that that would not suffice in the world he was in now. Everything was mechanized, computerized. It had not taken him very long to understand that he either learned or floundered, and flounder was not a word in his vocabulary.

And so he'd sat down with the PADD Marcus had given him and spent an hour pouring over manuals, and he'd been pleased to find that he'd mostly gotten the hang of the machine. Now, he held it out to Sophia, arching an eyebrow until she took it.

"I want you to enter your communicator information so you can send me a copy of the reports you gave Marcus. I need to know exactly what it is you told him and what you didn't."

Wordlessly, she nodded, her fingers moving over the screen before she handed it back to him, and then…nothing. Silence filled the room, and it was not, in any way, comfortable.

Khan had always been a man who had been at ease in his own skin. He didn't question his own actions or judgements, and rarely reflected on things of the past. He knew that some thought that made him less human, less humane, but he'd done things that would have made the hardest of soldiers sick, and he tended not to want to dwell on that. The decisions he made were always logical even if they weren't moral, and they were decisions he made quickly and easily. So now, where there was no logic, where there was no reason, he found himself at a loss. As Sophia stood looking at him, her cheeks still flushed and her lips still swollen, he realized that, for the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do.

He couldn't kill her. After he'd calmed down, he'd realized that eliminating her would be completely irrational. Marcus would be furious, but more importantly, he'd be suspicious as to why, and that was something Khan couldn't afford right now. He was also now aware of the fact that he couldn't punish her. She might have been incredibly foolish in her actions, and he might have been angry with her for disobeying him, but she'd done it for a good reason, and he would not discipline her for that. Besides, he realized, he didn't want to hurt her. The thought of causing her pain made the strange itching under his skin return, so he dismissed the idea as soon as it'd come.

"I am not quite sure what to do with you," he finally said.

He was both pleased and irritated to see her eyes light with fear when she heard that. Pleased, because it proved that she wasn't as stupid as most humans were — she obviously knew that his admission was not one of weakness, merely indecision — and that she hadn't forgotten that he was very much in charge of the current situation. But he also felt a brief flash of irritation when he realized she was scared of him. He'd certainly given her enough reason to be, and he knew that, but he couldn't help but be angry with either her or himself, he wasn't sure, at the fear in her gaze.

"Did Marcus hurt your crew because of me?" she asked, voice timid.

He shook his head and watched as she let out a sigh of relief.

"Are you relieved I have no reason to punish you? Or were you truly worried for my crew?"

She seemed to think about that for a second before answering, "both." He admired her honesty, though he made sure that his face betrayed nothing, and did nothing more than tilt his head to the side.

"You are so very much at a disadvantage right now, and yet you answer so. Are you not scared I will harm you?"

She bit her lip, obviously thinking about that one too, before answering, "sort of."

And then he couldn't help but smile. Against his will, he felt the corner of his mouth tugging up as his amusement showed through. He had practically assaulted her a few minutes ago, yet she did not lie to tell him what she thought he wanted to hear. Her candidness was incredibly refreshing, and he found, to his immense surprise, that he was beginning to like her. For a human, she was highly intelligent and astute, and she had a sense of morality that, while somewhat naive, was also admirable.

Not to mention he was still hard just looking at her.

With his enhanced senses, he could also smell her — strawberries and roses — which certainly wasn't helping with his erection either. He sighed. He'd technically been celibate for two and half centuries, which was why, he told himself, he was having this reaction to her. Any other possibility required some sort of feeling on his part, an idea he dismissed as utterly ridiculous. No, his prolonged abstinence had simply caused a natural desire for sex, and she was the closest available female. Completely logical.

With that in mind, he pushed aside any…personal thoughts he might have had about her and forced himself to look at the situation objectively. It didn't take very long however, to realize that not much had changed. Marcus still held all of the cards save for one, thanks to Sophia, and he was still obligated to do as the Admiral wished. Until some better plan occurred to him, he would have to continue to play the docile pet. Sophia would still work for Marcus as well, as he assumed her brother was still under threat, and-

He paused. Now that he was woken, and now that she had done the report, there was a good chance that Sophia would be dismissed. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that, only knew that the itching under his skin had returned.

"Sophia," he asked quietly. "Now that your duties have been concluded, will you be leaving?"

He made his voice as flat as he could, emotionless. It was one thing for him to desire her or to want her to stay. It was an entirely different thing for her to know it. He could not, however, stop the small tug at the corner of his lips when she shook her head.

"No," she answered. "Marcus has a, um, new job for me."

His smile vanished as he saw the discomfort in her expression, and something he could only term as rage flowed through him. He did not know where the sentiment had come from, did not particularly care, only knew that if Marcus hurt her, he would die. She was, he reasoned, his to hurt and his to control. Since she had agreed to help him, until one of them left, that would remain true, and Marcus would not touch her. He wouldn't allow it.

"What job is this?"

He made no effort to conceal his anger. He didn't care if Sophia saw his displeasure. There was a difference between possessiveness and emotion, he told himself, and even though he disdained to think himself capable of the second, he was certainly feeling the first.

"He wants me to replicate your DNA."

He frowned.

"That is impossible."

"That's what I've been starting to realize."

"And has Marcus threatened you if you are not successful?"

She hesitated, but nodded eventually.

"Not in so many words, but yes."

The anger burned just a bit hotter. He had always been a possessive man, and he did not like when those he deemed as his were threatened. And, until he decided he had no more use for her, Sophia was his.

"It is impossible," he repeated slowly. "My DNA was designed to degrade should it be unwound by unnatural means. You can not replicate it artificially. Surely you have told Marcus this?"

She nodded and shrugged.

"I don't even think he knows what unwinding DNA even means. Henceforth, I don't think he really cares."

He frowned, his mind whirling through possible courses of action, possible avenues of escape. When he realized that, short of killing everyone in this base — something he wasn't sure even he could do, not before they hurt his crew — he had no options, he growled. He was not used to being helpless, and it infuriated him that he was now. In an effort to distract himself from his anger, he let his eyes wander to the items that Sophia had brought with her, pausing when he saw several hyposprays.

"You need more samples?"

She nodded.

"All of the other ones degraded."

Wordlessly, he rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm to her. Surprise flickered in her eyes, but only for a moment, and she quickly grabbed the hyposprays and walked over to him. He would not admit it to anyone, not even to himself, but when she stepped close to him, his body tightened in awareness, and when she touched him, her fingers grasping his arm delicately, a small shudder raced down his spine. He stood, frozen, as she collected her samples, breathing her scent in as deeply as he could without drawing attention. He was disappointed when she stepped away.

"You will need more," he said after moment, a small idea forming in his mind. "These samples will degrade just as the others did."

"I know," she sighed. "I can't figure out how to stop it. The enzymes unwind the DNA just fine, but then some sort of catalytic reaction gets triggered, and the nucleotides start hydrolyzing and breaking apart."

He shrugged, not really caring why she couldn't replicate his DNA, only caring that she couldn't. While he was well aware that her continued failure might anger Marcus, it also forced her to come to him on a regular basis. It would allow him to keep abreast of what was happening outside of his lab, and it would also allow him to keep an eye on her.

"Sophia," he said, stopping until he knew he had her full attention. "You will need more samples, and you will come to get them from me every three days."

It wasn't a question, and his tone made it obvious that it wasn't.

"You will come every three days, and you will tell me what progress you have or haven't made. That way, I will be informed of what is happening."

He hesitated for a second before continuing.

"And I will know you are safe."

A small flush lit her cheeks, and he was pleased to see that he was not the only one affected by this irritating draw between them.

"Are we clear?"

She nodded.

"The words, Sophia. Out loud."

"Yes."

He allowed her a small smile, enjoying the way her flush deepened.

"Now go. Marcus will be suspicious if you are gone too long, and I have no wish to give him a reason to check the cameras-"

"Cameras!"  
Sophia looked horrified.

"I completely forgot about them. Marcus can see everything in here, including that first day. Then he knows that I lied to him? He has to be furious. What if he hurts Christian? What if-"

"Sophia."

She looked at him, her eyes wide and fearful.

"Sophia, do you not think that if Marcus knew you had lied, he would have said something by now? I do not believe he has seen the security feed. He has access to it, yes, but he has no reason to watch it. At the time, he believed me to be unconscious, and now he believes we are both firmly under his control. He will have had no reason to believe either of us would defy him, let alone in collaboration, and until that changes, those feeds will just be several of thousands in the archives. Besides-"

He gestured vaguely to the camera mounted in the corner of the room.

"I have been working to rewire the camera so it will replay a clip on a loop. That way, should Marcus decide to take a look, he will see me working, no matter what I am really doing."

She still looked scared, the beautiful rosy flush in her cheeks fading as she paled. Whatever part of him had been so furious at Marcus for threatening her took offense now, at the sight of her fear, and it was without conscious thought that he moved towards her. His hand reached up of his own violation to touch her chin, tilting it up so her gaze met his own.

"I would not put you in danger, Sophia. Just do as I say, and I promise no harm will come to you. Do you understand?"

They were not the most comforting of words, he acknowledged that, and they were tinted with dominate demand, but she seemed to understand what he was trying to convey anyway. She nodded, and then, before he could remind her, whispered a very quiet, "yes."

"Good girl."

He brushed a finger across her lips without thinking, lingering for just a second before dropping his hand and backing away.

"Now you truly must go. I have work to do, as do you. Just remember that I expect to see you in three days."

"Okay."

She smiled tentatively at him before she turned to go, and this time, he watched her as she left.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

2258.141

Sophia knocked hesitantly on the door to Khan's lab, empty hyposprays in hand, worrying her lower lip between her teeth as she waited for him to answer. It wasn't because she was scared of him or wary of him or didn't want to see him. It was because she did. She'd known him only about four weeks, spoken to him maybe eight times in that period, but something about him was so enigmatic, so magnetic, that she found herself counting down the days between her visits to him. Each time she saw him, he thawed just a bit more, grew just the slightest bit warmer towards her, and each time, she craved his presence with greater intensity.

"Enter."

The sound of his voice sent shivers down her spine, and she bit her lip harder as she pressed the button to open the door and stepped inside. She didn't see him right away, crouched as he was at the far end of the room, and she watched curiously as he tinkered with the underside of some sort of cannon. His back was to her, his dark head bent as he played with the circuit board of the weapon. He didn't turn to acknowledge her, and there was no mirror anywhere near him, so she was surprised when he murmured a very quiet, "hello Sophia."

"Hi," she answered just as softly. "I need more samples."

At this he did turn around, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She'd noticed that about him, that he never really showed what he was feeling. But there were moments now and again when he would give her a look like the one he was giving her now, when his icy eyes would thaw, and the harsh lines of his face would ease. When the cupid's bow of his mouth would tilt, and for just a moment, she would see a flash of what lay beneath his glacial exterior.

"Do you really?" he asked, the amusement on his face echoed in his voice. "Or do you just say that to humor me and pretend that I did not instruct you to report to me biweekly?"

She returned his smile sheepishly.

"A little bit of both I guess. I will need more samples, just not today. Or really any day, in the near…distant…future."

She'd been back to draw blood six times since he'd ordered her to do so, and she had enough of it frozen to last her a good while. Her work right now didn't require a lot of it, as she had changed courses from experimenting directly with his blood to using other DNA. She'd started inducing nucleotide hydrolysis in other samples, before working to reverse it; if she could do that, she believed she could stabilize Khan's DNA long enough for it to last a round of artificial replication, and she didn't plan to waste any of his blood until she was certain she could do so. As such, she hadn't touched his blood in days, and didn't need to replenish her stocks. In fact, she hadn't even taken any the last time, and she doubted she would today. The smile that still lingered on Khan's face told her he probably knew that too.

"What are you doing?" she asked, needing something to focus on besides the way that smile made her whole body warm.

He gestured vaguely.

"Phaser cannon. I would like to have it finished by tomorrow."

What he meant was that Marcus wanted it by tomorrow, she knew, but there was a sort of unspoken rule between them, that they wouldn't mention the Admiral when they were with each other. It was a small thing, but one she greatly appreciated. Not speaking of him almost made it seem like she and Khan were here of their own violation. Almost. They both knew of course, that he controlled almost every aspect of both their lives, but not saying his name made it easier to pretend he didn't.

"Are you almost done?" she asked.

"Relatively speaking. There's just a bit more wiring to finish and the charges to install."

"Well don't stop working on my account," she said, moving towards the door again. "I'm sure you're incredibly busy, and-"

"Stay, Sophia."

The note of command that was ever present in his voice rang loud and clear, and she hesitated only a second before listening. Moving towards the chair he nodded at, she perched herself in it and tried to pretend she wasn't staring at the play of muscles under his shirt as he turned back to whatever it was he was doing. The stark black Starfleet-issue material wasn't particularly flattering, but it hugged his frame closely and outlined every muscle of his back as he worked. There wasn't, she thought, amused, much that he _wouldn't_ look good in.

She'd always found him handsome, but somehow, in the past few weeks, he'd only gotten handsomer. She expected it had a lot to do with the way he carried himself. There was an air about him, a sort of dignified regality tinged with just the slightest bit of danger, shaded with just the slightest feral edge, that called to every part of her that was a woman. It wasn't that he was overtly sexual or even that he'd made any advances towards her since that one time; it was that he was so overwhelmingly masculine that it was impossible for her _not_ to take notice. The predatoriness, the lethality — it was something she'd only seen in soldiers, which, she supposed, was what he was. But mixed with his exceptional intelligence and the quiet dominance that hung so thick around him it was practically tangible, it made him an enigma she couldn't begin to explain or solve.

That was not, however, why she was attracted to him.

And she was, attracted to him. She might not have had a lot of experience with men, but that didn't mean she didn't know what it felt like. She'd done her homework on human sexuality while in medical school, and she knew what the rush of warmth through her body meant, knew that the throb between her legs she'd felt when he kissed her meant that she desired him. Her heart sped up just the tiniest bit when she saw him, and when he gave her one of those crooked half-smiles, her breath caught in her throat and she couldn't help but smile back. In short, she was well aware of the fact that she was physically attracted to him, but that was not, she also knew, why she was _attracted_ to him.

No, that was because he was the most selfless man she'd met. She wasn't stupid — he'd been well prepared to kill her that first day, when he'd woken, if she hadn't given him the answers he wanted. The ghost of the memory of his grip on her throat had her hand going there even now, to rub at the phantom ache. She also knew that he wanted to kill Marcus, very, very badly. But, and most importantly in her opinion, he controlled himself for the sake of his crew. Of all the things she knew about him, that he was as far from docile and obedient as possible was the most obvious, and yet he went against his very nature to protect those he loved. The strength and the loyalty that took amazed her, and she knew that, above all else, was why she felt the way she did.

"You're staring, Sophia."

The realization that she had indeed been staring, and that he had noticed, had her cheeks flaming, and she was sure that there were supernovas that burned less brightly than they did right now. To make it worse, his eyes glittered with amusement, and his mouth was once again curled up ever so slightly. Fumbling for something to say, to save what little of her pride she suspected she had left, she mumbled, "I just zoned out."

What happened next took her breath away.

The little smirk that played along his lips turned into a full-blown smile, and she just about forgot how to breath. It wasn't really that amazing if she actually thought about it — his eyes crinkled at the corners, his mouth turned up, and he flashed just the briefest glimpse of pearly white teeth — but somehow, when that smile appeared, his entire face changed, and the icy mask that seemed to have been permanently etched into this features disappeared.

"You are," he began, chuckling softly, "the worst liar I have ever met. I dearly hope you are never assigned to some sort of covert operation, because you will be made before you can say, 'hello my name is Sophia.'"

And then, before she could say anything, he was on his feet, moving towards her. He dropped his micro-welder on one of the various tables scattered around the room as he passed it, his eyes fixed on her as he closed the distance between them with a few, long strides. Stopped in front of her, he reached to touch her cheek, his skin as cool and smooth as marble as it slid against hers.

"You blush so beautifully," he murmured, whether to her or himself, she wasn't sure. "I don't think I will ever tire of seeing it."

Her breath caught, and if she was the youngest molecular geneticist Starfleet had ever recruited, no one would have known it in that moment. Her mind went absolutely blank of everything save for how close he was and how good he smelled and how much she wanted to touch him. She sat, frozen, as he traced one long finger down the bridge of her nose, across her jaw, and then along the line of her throat, where it stopped.

"Your pulse is racing," he said softly. "Much like when I first met you, though I do not believe that this time it is an anxiety born of fear."

His eyes, darkened to a stormy pewter that reminded her of thunderclouds, found hers, and he tapped his finger lightly against her throat. His voice when he next spoke was impossibly deep and just the slightest bit rough, and the ache between her legs she'd only ever felt with him returned.

"Am I wrong?"

Mutely, she shook her head.

"I did not think so."

And then he was kissing her. It was nothing like his first kiss, nothing like what she'd expected. Oh, it was every bit as dominant and every bit as commanding, and there was no question at all that he was in charge. But his mouth was soft against hers, and his teeth were gentle as they nipped her lower lip, and his hand cupped the back of her neck so delicately, it was as if he thought she was made of glass. The other hand was splayed possessively against her side, his fingers just brushing the curve of her breast, stroking teasingly.

A small moan escaped her mouth before she could stop it, and like before, he seemed to enjoy the sound, growling softly in approval before kissing her harder. His left hand slipped from her neck to her waist, pulling her tight against him, until she could feel every line of his body pressed against hers. Heat raced through her when she felt the unmistakable ridge of his erection pressed against her lower stomach, and she whined softly in protest when his mouth broke from hers.

He pulled back, eyes burning, breathing hard, to look at her.

"I am attracted to you Sophia, and I have realized that pretending otherwise is foolishness. I enjoy looking at you, and I enjoy touching you, and you enjoying the same pleasures in return is not something to be ashamed of."

He touched her cheek again, his hips rocking gently against hers, stroking his arousal against her and forcing a small moan from her throat. She was enraptured by his gaze, held captive by his voice.

"Your blushes fascinate me, yes, but not when they are born of embarrassment that you should not feel."

Though it wasn't a question, she knew he wanted an answer. The only problem was that her brain seemed to have checked out the moment his lips touched hers, and it took her a moment before she could answer him.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Hmm, good girl."

He pressed one more kiss to her mouth before stepping back.

Part of her knew she should feel disconcerted by his words, perhaps even offended. She was twenty-five and well past the age that she needed approval from some sort of authority figure, but she couldn't find it in herself to feel anything but pleasure. The way he said it wasn't demeaning or patronizing or condescending in the least. Instead, his voice was filled with a kind of gentle affection that was reflected in his touch as he stroked her cheek, imbued with a sort of possessiveness that made her shiver and her heart clench. She felt the loss instantly when he stepped away.

"Now, I believe that-"

A knock on the door made them both freeze.

Khan, of course, recovered much faster than she did, and before she knew what was happening, he had run to the table where she'd left her hyposprays and pressed one against his arm. He wasted no time in filling it and two of the remaining ones, shoving the last into her startled hands before going to the door. By this time, her brain had once again started functioning, and she hurried to grab her PADD, hypospray still in hand. By the time Khan had returned with whoever had been knocking, she was typing away busily, head bent in studious concentration.

"Ah, Doctor Summers. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Marcus.

Her blood froze, and she struggled to keep her face neutral as she looked up, struggled not to let her fear or her revulsion show through. For the last few weeks, Marcus had been an ever-present force in her life, constantly demanding progress and constantly threatening Christian when she told him she hadn't yet figured out how to replicate Khan's DNA. He, of course, had no idea what she meant when she told him that spontaneous hydrolysis was keeping the DNA Pol II from covalently bonding free nucleotides, and he also, of course, didn't care. He only wanted results, and he was becoming increasingly impatient as she continued to fail to produce them.

"Hello, Admiral," she managed in what she hoped was a calm, respectful tone. "I was just collecting more samples."

His blue eyes, with their ever-present cruelty, were so very, very different from Khan's, and she struggled to stay still as they bored into her.

"Have you succeeded in replicating his DNA yet?"

She shook her head.

"No, sir. I've been trying to stabilize hydrolysis in other samples, hoping that I can learn to reverse the process long enough to-"

"I don't give a rat's ass how you do it, doctor. Just get me what I want, or it won't only be your brother you have to worry about."

He gave her a very pointed look that made her blood run cold and her heart speed up before turning away. She was about to do the same when, for just a brief second, she met Khan's eyes over his shoulder. The look in them made her shiver. She'd never seen that much fury in one gaze, never known that such violence could be conveyed with just one look. But before either one of them could say anything, Marcus was speaking, asking Khan about the progress of the cannon, and Sophia realized she'd been summarily dismissed.

Fighting to keep her hands from shaking, she gathered up her PADD and the three other hyposprays, hugging everything to her chest before murmuring a quick goodbye. Her eyes downcast, she headed towards the door, thankful that Marcus seemed to be much too absorbed with whatever it was he was saying to pay any attention to her. But Khan…

She could feel his eyes on her long after she left the room.

**AN: I hate Marcus, I really do. Something about him always seemed evil to me, even before it was revealed he was trying to start war with the Romulans, and think I've made that obvious in how he's blackmailing Khan and Sophia. And, I also figured that that made him the perfect catalyst for what's going to happen next - our hero is just a ****_tad_**** bit possessive, no?**

**Please review!**


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

2258.141

_"I don't give a rat's ass how you do it, doctor. Just get me what I want, or it won't only be your brother you have to worry about."_

Khan fought to keep his face blank as rage pulsed through him. He could feel his blood heating, his muscles tightening. His body was readying itself to fight, and he was loathe to make any effort to stop it. Hearing Marcus speak to Sophia that way, hearing him _threaten _her — it had infuriated him like nothing in his life had before. Every instinct he possessed told him to grab the other man by the throat, to slam him against the nearest wall, to make him him _suffer_.

When he had told Sophia he desired her, he had spoken the truth, and that meant that she was his. His to fuck and his to protect. That he hadn't more than kissed her did not invalidate the fact that she was under his guard, and it took everything in him to keep himself still, to stop himself from reaching for Marcus. To do so would force retaliation against him, namely his crew, and would reveal that he…cared for Sophia. It would make her a target, and that was something he would not allow.

And so he reigned in his temper, forced his body to relax, forced himself to stand still. It was only through sheer willpower that he was able to unclench his muscles, able to breathe deep and slow to ease his heart rate. None of that stopped his anger though, calmed the fury that laced his very blood and flooded every part of him. No, his anger he made no effort to control, regardless of his actions to mask it, and if he had not already decided to kill Marcus, he most certainly would have in that moment.

"-will be known as Commander John Harrison. I've had all the documents drawn up, all the needed records altered. Personally, I'd like to keep you locked up here like the freak you are, but I need you to do hands on work with the _Vengeance_, and I can't have people asking questions about who you are."

Khan returned his attention to Marcus just in time to hear the other man assign him what he assumed was his new identity. He fought the urge to sneer. John Harrison was a far cry from Khan Noonien Singh, and he found it rather insulting, frankly, that he was to become something so mundane, so _human_. But, he reminded himself, his empire had not been built overnight, and he had not ruled for so long by being rash, so he held his tongue and nodded.

"Good. You'll live off base — I can't have you being seen returning here every night, but you'll have to check in every now and then. Dr. Summers is going to need to continue her tests."

The mention of Sophia caught Khan's attention, and he narrowed his eyes.

"I was told she was the best at what she did, but I'm starting to doubt that. She hasn't done a goddamned thing since I brought her here."

A sudden laugh escaped his mouth.

"She's got a pretty face though, so who knows, maybe she'll be good for something after all."

There was no mistaking what he meant, and the fury that had just cooled raged through Khan once again. No matter his efforts to stop it, his fist curled, and he felt a growl build in his chest. Just barely did he manage to keep it from escaping. He forced his gaze away from Marcus, forced himself to close his eyes so the anger in his gaze would not betray him.

"Anyway, I expect those blueprints for the _Vengeance_ to be done in two days. We've already built the majority of the hull, and construction of the interior will begin at the end of the week."

Marcus's voice lost its jovial tone and changed, took on the hardened edge Khan didn't dare indulge in himself.

"Don't be late, Commander. Or your crew will suffer for it."

He left without another word, whistling as he went.

It took Khan much longer than he'd expected to calm down after that.

He was usually more in control than this, usually had a better handle on his emotions. Not for nothing had he become leader of his people — he was levelheaded, collected. He never gave into his rather volatile emotions, never let them get the better of him. But none of those rules applied now. Not only had Marcus threatened his crew, again, he had threatened Sophia, and that was unforgivable.

Though when exactly she had become so important, he wasn't quite sure.

He'd known her only about four weeks, spoken to her maybe eight times in that period, but something about her was so compelling, so magnetic, that he'd found himself counting down the days between her visits to him. It was foolishness, and he knew that — he should have been focused on his crew, nothing more — but he was so alone, so very isolated in this new world, and she was so very sweet. She drew him like no other woman had, and as a good leader always knew when to surrender, he'd long since realized the futility of pretending he didn't want her. That, of course, did not mean that he _felt_ something for her, but he no longer tried to deny that he desired her body.

But no, he thought, that wasn't quite right either. He wanted her for more than her body. She was brilliant for a human, yes, and rather attractive, but he quickly dismissed both of those reasons as well. All of his Augment sisters were intelligent, and he'd seen his fair share of beautiful women, and none of them had turned his head like Sophia did. Rather, his mind turned to the first day he'd met her, when she'd told him she obeyed Marcus to protect her brother. It turned to the day she'd told him she had lied to protect him and by extension, his crew. It turned to the fact that she'd lied at all, defying Marcus and risking her safety to do what she believed was right. The kind of strength and loyalty that took were qualities that the human race was slowly losing, and the fact that she possessed them drew both his attention and his respect. She was different from other humans. She strove to protect not just her own family, but his, and that was something he could not help but admire.

Although, if he was being honest, which he usually was, the fact that he was physically attracted to her certainly helped. She was nothing like his Augment sisters, nothing like the women he had chosen in the past, but somehow that only made him want her more. She was petite, and she was tiny, and while he would never call her weak, she did not possess the physical abilities with which his people were gifted. Something about that, about the fact that he was so much more powerful than her, drew him in.

He wasn't one for introspection, at least not often. Between ruling an empire and fighting wars, he hadn't had much time to reflect on what made him the way he was, about why he wanted the things he wanted. But now, though he certainly wouldn't say that he was any less stressed, he had more time to himself, to think, and he'd realized that he enjoyed being so much more powerful than her because it gave him something to protect.

He'd been ruler for so wrong, been caretaker of his people for so long, that he couldn't remember what it was like to not have people depending on him, to not have people looking to him for leadership. As such, he didn't know how _not_ to be in charge, how _not_ to be protective and domineering and overbearing. It was part of who he was, as much as was his strength or his agility or his intelligence, and with Sophia, he didn't have to pretend otherwise.

Of course, he was still Khan; he was still an Augment, and he had still ruled a quarter of the Earth — he had no patience for the weak. The thing about Sophia, however, was that she wasn't. She deferred to his wishes, yes, and she was certainly submissive when it came to his physical advances, but she wasn't weak. No, she was brilliant in her own right, perfectly capable of making plans and executing them on her own, perfectly capable of thinking for herself. But it was that very reason, the very fact that she _didn't_ need him, that made him her that much more. He'd never before encountered such a mix of softness and strength, of silk and steel, and it held him, admittedly, captivated. What he couldn't figure out, what he wasn't sure about, was what he was supposed to do now.

If he was smart, he would leave her alone. He had his crew to worry about, and even though there was nothing he could do right now, no plans that he could carry out or plots he could fulfill, it didn't mean that he should allow himself to be distracted. He had seventy-two lives depending on him, and part of him believed it selfish to be caught up in a woman, especially a human one, when so great a task rested on his shoulders. Much in the same vein, another part of him said that it was selfish also to drag her into his world. Marcus needed her now, yes, but when she completed her assignment or when he found someone to replace her, she would be released. She would return to whatever life she had led before, and he knew that pursuing her would only endanger her, would only threaten her chances of escaping this place.

The other part of him didn't give a flying fuck whether or not what he wanted was right.

Some primitive part of him, some feral instinct he usually chose to indulge in only when in battle, had very decidedly marked Sophia as belonging to it. His conscious, more rational side had as well, he noted, and he didn't think that either part of him was going to lose its current obsession with her, at least until he got her out of his system.

And maybe, he thought, maybe not even then.

* * *

He settled into his new life relatively easily.

He'd been given a small apartment near the Archives, one that was clean and well-furnished though not lavish by any standards, and a hover car for transportation. He was expected at work at nine o'clock every morning, to continuing working on projects in his old lab, except for when Marcus wanted him to directly oversee some part of the _Vengeance_'s construction. Then, he would take a day or two to fly out to Jupiter, where, true to Marcus's word, the hull of the starship had already been completed.

From what he understood, the hull was really just a larger version of regular Federation vessels. Besides it being twice the usual size, there was nothing to distinguish it from other starships, and its superior capabilities would come from the interior, from what he designed.

Aside from all of that, he was paid a decent salary, had permission to requisition any materials he needed, and was generally left alone to work on whatever projects he had. If it wasn't for the fact that he had all of this against his will, because of blackmail, he didn't think he would have minded it. But it was against his will, and he was being blackmailed, and he hated every minute he spent as Commander John Harrison. It kept him from his freedom, kept him from his crew, and it kept him from Sophia.

It'd been almost a month since Marcus had come to see him in his lab, a month since he'd moved out of the Archive base. Of course, he still had his appointments with her so she could take samples, and he did see her with some regularity, but it wasn't the same.

When he'd lived under the Archives, he'd done so knowing that she was only a few hundred yards away from him at any given moment. If she needed him, or if he wanted to check on her, he could do so on a whim, at a moment's notice. Now though, now he was a good ten minutes away by hover car, fifteen if he counted the time it took to clear security, and there was not one part of him that enjoyed having her so far. Marcus's threat towards her was ever-present in his mind, and the idea that the Admiral might act on it, without him there to stop it, made him sick. And, he admitted, he simply didn't like having her far away, period.

He hadn't taken her yet, though why he wasn't sure. He'd long since fixed the cameras in his lab to play whatever clip he chose, so that her visits were done in private, and he was almost positive she wouldn't object. She happily received whatever affection he chose to show her, accepted his kisses and sometimes initiated them, and he was quite certain she was as attracted to him as he was to her. There was no reason _not_ to take her, if he really thought about it, but somehow it'd never felt right.

Part of him thought that it was because he respected her. She was unlike any female he'd ever met, any _human_ he'd ever met, and he didn't want her to think that he only wanted her for her body.

Another part of him said that it was because he didn't want her getting attached. Women were odd about that, thinking that fucking was the same thing as making love, and that a tumble in the sheets equated to lifelong commitment. He wasn't looking for that, didn't want it, and he didn't want to give her the idea that he did.

The last part of him, the one he shoved to the back of his mind and promptly ignored, said that it was because he didn't want himself getting attached. And it would, he thought, be very, very easy to want her more than he should.

Because he _did_ respect her, and she _was_ unlike anyone he had ever met. He didn't just want her for her body, didn't just want her for her face. She was intelligent and well-spoken, and she had a core of steel under all that kindheartedness. But what drew him most, what caught his attention and refused to release it, was the impossibly sweet submission she gave him when he kissed her, when he held her. Never before had he met someone who seemed to grasp the dynamics of his inborn need for control, for dominance, so well. She understood that he didn't want a slave, didn't want a pet, understood that he wasn't there to think for her. But when things got physical, he needed to be in charge, and she understood that too.

It was why he was so drawn to her, why he couldn't seem to leave her alone no matter what logic told him was right. And it was why he was so certain that he couldn't sleep with her. Doing so, he was sure, would be the equivalent of an alcoholic taking a sip of wine. He would promise himself it would only be once, that he could stop himself if he wanted, but he would do so knowing it would be a lie.

Once would never be enough. His obsession would strengthen, his craving would intensify. If he knew anything about himself, it was that he was possessive and jealous and selfish, and he didn't let go of things he claimed as his. If he took her, he would not release her, and as he was completely devoted to the idea of somehow retrieving his crew and escaping, taking her was not an option.

That did not however, in any way, under any circumstances, mean that it was okay for anyone else to take her either.

Which explained his current mood.

"He's kind of what?" he asked, making no attempt to hide his scowl.

"Kind of…um…attractive."

He was in his apartment, lounging on the couch and talking to Sophia. One of the first things he'd done when he'd been released was to modify both his and her communicators. Marcus had blocked communication with outside sources on both devices, but those were changes easily reversed. He was building a goddamned starship, so why Marcus thought he wasn't intelligent enough to modify some computer code was beyond him.

And so he'd restored her communicator's full abilities, and then he'd taken to calling her every now and then, just to check on her progress, or so he told himself. He'd called her tonight, to ask her about her work, and had been unsurprised when she'd told him that she was still at a dead end. What he hadn't been expecting was for her to tell him that Marcus had assigned her a coworker.

That had caught his attention, but even if it hadn't, the fact that she'd said he was "kind of attractive" certainly would have. Again, though he knew it wasn't his most endearing character quality, jealousy was an emotion that came easily to him, and the idea of another 'kind of attractive" male anywhere near his Sophia was unacceptable.

"I suggest you rephrase that, Sophia," he growled.

She flushed crimson, and he saw her raise her hand, as if debating whether or not to cover the communicator's camera.

"I…he's absolutely horrid looking, and I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole."

She was only humoring him, and they both knew it, but it eased the tightness in his muscles, and he felt his lips twitch.

"Better. Now, is your absolutely horrid looking coworker any good at what he does?"

She shrugged.

"He came in rather late today, and I spent most of the remaining time catching him up on what I've done so far, so I don't really know. He seems intelligent though — made a lot of suggestions…critiques."

She hesitated here, biting her lip.

"I don't think he likes me very much."

Khan didn't bother hiding the smug satisfaction he felt at that.

"That makes him a complete idiot, but I won't complain. If it keeps him away from you, I don't care if he thinks you have the plague."

And he didn't, but it also meant that he felt just the slightest bit worried, just the slightest bit protective, and he didn't fight the urge to go and see her the next day.

When he got to work the next morning, he went to his lab, went through his normal routine. He tinkered with a new phaser-cannon model, put the finishing touches on his designs for the _Vengeance_'s transwarp beaming device, and started sketching what would eventually become a photon cannon. But when noon rolled around, though it was a day earlier than his scheduled appointment, he left his lab for the medical wing.

He knew people were staring at him as he walked the halls, could feel their gazes on him as he passed by. Many of them had been working together for months, and it was odd for Marcus to bring in a new face, let alone a Commander no one had ever heard of before. It was attention that, while it didn't make him uncomfortable, he didn't particularly like, and he was glad when her reached the door to Sophia's lab.

He didn't bother knocking before entering.

"Dr. Summers," he said as soon as the doors closed behind him.

It galled him that he had to call her that at work, but as Marcus was still under the impression that they were nothing more than doctor and patient, and as he was determined to keep it that way, he ignored his irritation and used her last name.

"Commander Harrison!"

Sophia jumped up from her table, nearly dropping the test tube she held in her hand. Hastily, she deposited it in a rack alongside several other vials, before removing her goggles and making her way over to him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

She sounded confused, but her eyes sparkled with happiness, and he couldn't control the rush of content he felt, being so close to her again.

"I just came to give you those samples you requested," he answered.

She still looked confused, but like he'd known she would, she just said, "of course, I forgot about those," and led him to a nearby chair. She gestured for him to sit before going to retrieve several hyposprays and swabs. It was while she was digging through a supply cabinet that the true reason for his visit walked into the room, and he narrowed his eyes as he studied Sophia's new coworker.

He was around the same age as him, maybe a bit younger, and he was of average height, with brown hair and brown eyes. From what Khan could see, he was in good shape and reasonably good-looking, yes, but there was nothing remarkable about him. Khan smirked. He was vain enough to know that he more than matched up to this doctor in terms of physical looks, and was confident that Sophia had simply been being nice when she'd called him attractive. Even better, the other man seemed to have no interest in his Sophia, not even stopping to greet her before making his way over to Khan.

"You must be the patient," he said, flashing a grin and offering his hand for a shake. "I'm Dr. Spencer Adams. Admiral Marcus just assigned me to work with Dr. Summers on your case."

He dropped into the chair opposite him, running a hand through his brown locks.

"I'm really looking forward to working with you."

That was a bit excessive in Khan's opinion, as he only walked in every now and then to donate some blood and saliva, but he nodded anyway.

"I read your file, and I have to say that your increased strength is quite impressive."

Again, Khan nodded, thoroughly confused by the direction of the conversation.

"It makes me wonder if those enhancements apply to your…stamina as well?"

It was in that moment that Khan realized exactly why Spencer had no interest in Sophia. If the question hadn't been enough, the hand that was now resting rather high up on his thigh certainly was, and though he'd never been particularly picky about what men, or women, he took to his bed, he had absolutely zero interest in Dr. Spencer Adams.

Oh, _fuck_ no.

**AN: Khan isn't perfect. He has his character flaws, has his jealousies and his hubris, and even though that just makes him even more attractive in some (my) eyes, I thought it important to make those imperfections clear. He still thinks himself superior to most humans, and I don't think he views Sophia in the way he should, at least not yet, and I hope that was obvious in this chapter.**

**Briefly, I have to thank AvalonTheLadyKiller for being my most loyal and thoughtful reviewer. On top of that, their advice was the inspiration for the introduction of Spencer, and I can't thank them enough for that.**

**As always, reviews are appreciated!**


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

2258.167

"Commander-, oh."

Sophia felt her eyes go wide when she turned to look for Khan and saw him sitting with Spencer's hand on his thigh, his expression thunderous. His blue eyes were narrowed, his jaw tight, and she could practically feel the _fuck off_ vibes from where she was standing.

"Commander," she started again, walking towards them.

His gaze swung to meet hers.

"Doctor," he returned.

He didn't say anything else, but she knew what he wanted. Noisily, perhaps more so than was necessary, she set the items she'd collected from the supply cabinet down on the table next to him and Spencer, hoping that the latter would take the hint. He didn't. Though he removed his hand, he remained where he was and didn't so much as turn to acknowledge her presence. Sighing, she realized she was going to have to say something.

"Dr. Adams, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I really need to collect some samples-"

"I can do it."

That certainly hadn't been what she expected, and she felt herself floundering for something to say. Thankfully, Khan seemed to have decided he'd been silent long enough.

"I mean no disrespect Dr. Adams, but Dr. Summers has been my physician for the last two months. I am more familiar with her and would prefer if she could conduct the tests."

Sophia narrowed her eyes. Khan's tone was reasonable, maybe even placating, and absolutely nothing like what she'd come to expect from him. But Spencer didn't know, what to expect that was, and he didn't seem to find anything odd about Khan's request. Instead, he flashed a winning smile, one that showed straight, pearly-white teeth, before standing.

"Of course Commander," he said. "Whatever makes you most comfortable, but I certainly hope we can get to know each other better in the future."

He didn't bother looking at Sophia before he went into his office.

"I'm sorry about that," she said softly, as she took the seat he'd just vacated and reached for a hypospray. "I didn't know he was gay."

Khan tilted his head as he looked at her.

"Does it bother you?"

"No. Does it-"

"No."

She raised an eyebrow at that.

"I am not a fan of having people I do not know touch me, Sophia. Especially not on my upper thigh. It has nothing to do with the fact that he is a man, and everything to do with the fact that he was a few inches away from my-"

"I get it," she said hastily.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he said nothing as he rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm for her.

As always, touching him sent little pulses of electricity shooting through her. No matter the coolness of his skin, it made her body warm, made her feel edgy. Worse, this close, she could smell him — a mix of spice and musk that was so overwhelmingly masculine she felt her core clench in need. It brought back memories of what it felt like for him to hold her, for him to kiss her. He'd only done so a few times, and he'd never taken it farther than that, but that didn't change the fact that she wanted him, desperately.

It was an odd sensation, craving someone physically. She'd found people attractive in the past, sure, but she'd never been attracted _to_ anybody. She'd never _wanted_ anyone. Usually, people were just people, and it didn't matter whether they were male or female or what they looked like or if they were smart or not. But Khan…something about him _demanded_ her attention. His presence was so commanding, so domineering. When he entered a room, people naturally gravitated towards him, and she was no exception. So now, as she sat across from him, her hands on his arm, his leg pressing against hers, she found it just the slightest bit hard to breathe. Searching for something, anything to say so he wouldn't see how flustered she was, she blurted out the first thing she thought of.

"Why did you act that way with Spencer?"

It was a valid question, now that she thought about it, and she found herself genuinely curious for the answer.

"Act like what?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, sounding perfectly confused, and she narrowed her eyes. Khan was not a man who did anything without a reason, and she didn't believe for a second that he didn't know what she was talking about. Irritated, she pressed the hypospray against his arm harder than was necessary. He, of course, probably didn't even feel it, but he sighed anyway and leaned forward to answer her.

"I did it because you have to work with him, Sophia. Antagonizing him would have done nothing to affect me, but would certainly have meant he would take it out on you. Sacrificing a bit of my pride to help you was not a hard decision."

She couldn't speak for a moment. His tone had been mildly irritated, yes, as if he was annoyed with her for not understanding right away why he'd done what he'd done, but it was also protective, the same way it was when he talked about his crew. Certainly not with the same magnitude of emotion, but the emotion was there nonetheless. It made her heart skip a beat.

She'd inadvertently woken him almost two months ago now, and she had gotten to know him quite well in that time, come to know that he put his crew above any and everything else, and that there was nothing he would not do for them. The though that he might have extended his care for them to her, even a little bit, took her breath away.

"Sophia?"

"Hmm?"

She looked up to see him staring at her with an odd expression.

"You are not mad at me, are you?"

"Of course not!"

The objection came out louder than she'd intended, and she blushed.

"I mean, no. What would give you that idea?"

"Nothing, really," he shrugged. "Some women do not like it when men step in on their behalf, they believe it is a commentary on their ability to protect themselves. When you went silent, I did not know how to interpret it."

"Oh, well, I can assure you it wasn't…that."

He looked confused for a second, before understanding settled over his face, and his smirk grew just the slightest bit.

He was silent for the rest of the time, his eyes taking on the faraway look they often did when she knew he was thinking about his crew, about what it would be like to be away from here. She recognized the thoughts easily, because they were ones she often had herself — thoughts about what it would have been like if she'd said no to Marcus that first day. Of course, Khan had had no choice, but in a way, she wished she hadn't had one either. That way she would have had someone to blame, someone to place responsibility on. Instead, she only had herself, and she found it hard not to hate herself for the situation she'd put herself in, for the danger she'd put Christian in.

"You're a million miles away, Sophia."

Khan's voice pulled her back to reality, back to her lab, and she offered him a wan look.

"I was just thinking."

"Obviously."

The dry humor in his voice made her smile.

"There," he murmured. "That's better."

He reached out and brushed the corner of her mouth with his thumb, his eyes piercing in their intensity as they looked at her.

"You are quite beautiful when you smile, Sophia. You should do it more often."

She blushed crimson for the rest of their meeting.

* * *

Sophia had never really disliked anyone, but she disliked Spencer Adams. She had absolutely no idea what she could have possibly done to offend the man, what grave offense she had given so that he treated her like she wasn't fit to scrape the dirt off of his shoes.

At first, she had thought it was because of her age. Just like Mark before him, she thought he'd resented having to work with someone so much less experienced than he. He certainly treated her like he was better than her, constantly criticizing her work her and saying that Marcus must have been suffering temporary insanity to bring her here. That in itself wouldn't have bothered her too much — she'd spent her entire career with people looking down on her, fighting to prove that she deserved her position — had he not tacked on the part about Marcus hiring her because he thought she'd make a good fuck.

She was insulted, of course she was, but it was the meaning behind those words, the jealousy in Spencer's eyes as he'd said them, that had made her realize that what she had done to make him hate her so was nothing more than being female.

She'd thought herself stupid at first, telling herself she was looking too deeply into things and that she was petty to think it was as simple as that. But as days had turned in to weeks, as Spencer's treatment of her had worsened with every passing visit from their mutual patient, she'd slowly realized that her suspicions were right.

Spencer wanted Khan, and Spencer thought she had Khan.

Part of her wanted to tell him no, that he was wrong, that she definitely didn't "have" Khan. No one, she suspected, had Khan. He was an entity unto himself, untouched by something so simple as infatuations. She knew he wanted her, she wasn't blind, but she suspected that his feelings had more to do with their mutual captivity and his desire for female company than anything else. Spencer's assumption that she had any deeper hold on him was one she was sure was wrong. But the other part of her, the more reckless, more insistent part, told her to tell Spencer he was right, that she did have Khan, and then rub it in his face.

It both and amused and irritated her to realize that she was feeling possessive.

She wasn't by nature a possessive person. She didn't care much for material things, gave often and generously to charities. Her apartment was small and perhaps a bit outdated, filled with things she hadn't really minded parting with when she'd come to work beneath the Archives. There wasn't much, she thought, that belonged to her that she wound mind parting with. Except Khan.

Of course, she was under no impression that he belonged to her. He did what he pleased, when it pleased him, and she knew without a doubt that he was the one in charge of whatever relationship existed between them. But while that remained true, while there remained a relationship between them, she didn't like the idea of sharing. In fact, she loathed the idea of sharing. The thought of Khan with anyone else, of him touching anyone else, of him gifting anyone else with that secret smile of his — it made her angrier than she could remember being in a long time. The less rational part of her wanted to stake its claim, to make it clear that while Khan might not be hers, he certainly wasn't anyone else's either, but she knew she could never do that.

Marcus still thought she and Khan were only passing acquaintances, only doctor and patient, and though Spencer thought that Khan wanted her, his suspicions were only that — suspicions. He had no proof to back his theories up, and if she hadn't known the truth herself, she would have dismissed them as crazy. She and Khan had been extremely careful, and the few times he'd come here instead of her visiting him in his lab, he hadn't so much as looked at her too long. He spoke to her politely, addressed her as "Dr. Summers," and never spoke to her of anything that could be considered remotely personal. In fact, she suspected that Spencer's theory that he wanted her was centered less on Khan's attentions towards her, and more on his lack of attention towards Spencer himself.

Khan was polite of course, showing the same level of respect for Spencer as he showed her, and no matter the fact that she knew the latter was faked, his behavior had been above reproach. He greeted the other man each time he visited, made perfectly reasonable excuses each time Spencer offered to be the one to do his tests, and then expressed such sincere regret over his refusals that even Sophia was half-convinced.

Still, she wanted to give him no reason to report anything to Marcus.

And so she held her tongue, said nothing when he insulted her, and acknowledged and even agreed with him when he criticized her. He was a good geneticist, she would give him that, and she wasn't so petty that she would ignore sound advice out of spite. Besides, she'd always thought the best way to deal with people like Spencer was to kill them with kindness, and so she'd told herself she'd be nothing but pleasant to the man, even if it killed her.

Today, however, was one of the days she thought it'd kill her.

Spencer was sitting across from her, both of them working at the main table in the lab, bent over microscopes as they analyzed several restriction fragment length polymorphisms. RFLP's were usually used to compare two different DNA samples, to see if they came from the same source, but Sophia and Spencer were using them to see if their replication attempts had been successful.

Right before Spencer had arrived, and now these past weeks with his help, Sophia had started using polymerase chain reactions to try and replicate Khan's DNA section by section, hoping that she would be able to clone the smaller segments before they hydrolyzed. She'd been mostly successful, and had then used a mixture of spliceosome and ligase to try and link the separated fragments. The result, she'd discovered, had not exactly been promising.

After using RFLP's to compare her cloned DNA to Khan's original DNA, she'd discovered that her attempts had all been in vain. The process of splicing and the relinking his DNA had resulted in separate telomeres and cap ends that, when joined, had caused multiple mutations, both point and frameshift. The result was introns that were now exons and exons that were now introns, which, in short, meant that the cloned DNA was pretty much useless.

She'd known that this was a long shot, known that it probably wouldn't work. The only reason she'd bothered trying in the first place was that she'd hoped Khan's superior healing capabilities would allow his DNA to repair the errors the replication had caused. Apparently, however, even his regenerative capabilities weren't that powerful, and she was once again at a dead end. The you're-not-very-smart-are-you look Spencer was giving her only confirmed that.

"Another failed attempt," he said. "Really, I don't know why Marcus keeps you around."

The fact that she herself wondered the same thing sometimes didn't stop her from getting irritated at the unnecessary comment.

"It's not like you proposed a better idea," she snapped, before more calmly adding, "though I'm sure that doesn't mean you didn't have any."

Like always, the flattery seemed to appease him, at least until she mentioned that Khan would be coming in in a little while.

"Commander Harrison is coming?"

She nodded.

With Spencer, it was always Commander Harrison. She didn't know exactly how much her coworker knew, but she didn't think he knew Khan was a two and a half century old genetic experiment. He couldn't have missed the increased physical and intellectual capabilities, those had clearly been in his file, but those could all be explained away with various steroids and treatments. The only thing that would have been suspicious was his healing capabilities, and Sophia had never been more glad that she'd lied to keep that out of his records. And so, whatever infatuation Spencer had with Khan, it was based solely on looks and his physical appeal, and Sophia didn't know if that made him incredibly shallow, or simply human.

It was Khan, after all, and one would have had to have been blind not to be at least a little bit attracted to him. Reminding herself of that in her head, she was pleased that she sounded reasonably friendly when she answered.

"He should be here in the next ten minutes or so," she confirmed as she stood, going to pull off her gloves and throw them in the trash. "Just so I can collect some epithelial cells."

Khan absolutely hated cheek swabs. He hadn't said as much, but she'd seen the irritation in his eyes when she asked him to open his mouth. Knowing him, it was because he thought it incredibly undignified to let her poke around in his mouth with a cotton swab, and she couldn't decide whether to be amused or irritated with his preoccupation with appearances. Either way, his attitude wasn't likely to change, so she settled on the first, as she figured there was no use worrying over something she couldn't control.

"But not to see you."

"Hmm?"

She looked up, distracted.

"He's not coming here to see you."

"Um…I guess not."

She still wasn't really paying attention, too busy laying out a tray with swabs and vials. It was nothing new for Spencer to insinuate that there was no way Khan saw anything in her, and she wasn't about to give him a reaction. But when she felt hands on her shoulders, spinning her around, she certainly reacted then.

"Dr. Adams, what-"

"You will look at me when I speak to you."

It was something Khan often said, though perhaps in different words. Khan would touch her chin or her cheek, waiting until she looked at him before saying, "eyes, Sophia." It was domineering and maybe just the slightest bit insensible, but like his need for verbal answers, she indulged him. Besides, he always said it gently, coaxingly, no matter that she knew his words weren't a request, and he never got upset when she hesitated to obey. Instead, he would wait patiently, and then he would reward her with one of those crooked smiles that made her entire body heat a degree or two.

But Spencer…there was no hint of patience in his voice, no softness. Just irritation and an anger she knew had been simmering since Khan had first turned him down in favor of her.

"You think you're special, don't you. You think because Marcus hired you first, because Commander Harrison is shy around me, that that means he likes you more?"

It was completely insane, to want to laugh when this man was pinning her against a table, but she did. Putting the words "Commander Harrison" and "shy" together in the same sentence was so absurd she barely held on to her giggles. The feel of Spencer's hand grabbing her chin, however, ensured she did.

"You're nothing," he hissed. "Commander Harrison will never want you. You might have whored yourself out to get Marcus to hire you, but John will never go for a slut like you."

It wasn't that he'd called her a slut, it wasn't that he'd suggested she'd use her body to get what she wanted. Plenty of people had called her worse, insinuated worse, and she knew plenty more would do so in the future. No, what enraged her and made her fist clench was the way Spencer said _John_. John wasn't even his real name, she knew that, but the sound of Spencer saying that instead of "Commander Harrison," like he knew him, like he had a right to him, made her lose reason. She put her hands on his chest and shoved angrily.

"I didn't have to sleep with anyone to get where I am," she scowled. "I earned my title, and I earned my position. You want to believe otherwise, fine, but don't you dare act like you're better than me. Ever since you got here, you've done nothing but complain, and that's when you're not flirting with our patient. It's completely unprofessional."

She probably shouldn't have tacked on that last bit, considering she was sort of, kind of seeing said patient, but she didn't regret the words as they left her mouth. Not even when Spencer grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the table again, this time, with much more force.

"Watch your mouth when you speak to me," he hissed. "Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do. You're a little attention-seeking whore — I've met your type before. You're always prancing around here, acting like you own the place. You think because Commander Harrison is more comfortable with you that that he wants you."

He sneered.

"As if. You're pretty, I'll give you that, but it takes a lot more than that to keep the attention of a man like Commander Harrison. Even a slut like you could never keep him satisfied, not like I could."

Again, the idea of Khan with someone else, anyone else, made pain and anger pour through her in equal measure, and she tried to shove him off of her again, stomping down on his foot as she did so. He was ready for it this time though, and all her efforts earned her was a hard slap to the face.

"Bitch," he spat. "I'll fucking ruin you. Or-"

His scowl turned into a leer.

"-maybe I'll just fuck you. I don't exactly go for your type, but it might teach your a lesson about respect. Maybe then you'll think twice before you-"

He never got the chance to finish.

Spencer was torn from her so quickly that she didn't even realize what was happening, not at first. All she knew was that the hand that had been grasping her neck so tight it'd been getting hard to breathe was gone, that the body that had been pinning her to the table so roughly was no longer there. For a few seconds, she just stood there, stunned, before she realized that she and Spencer were no longer alone. Khan was here.

God, she'd forgotten how fast he could move.

So quickly her eyes could barely follow, Khan grabbed Spencer by the wrist, the one attached to the hand holding her neck, and squeezed until he let go before slinging him to the floor. He didn't just throw him though, he _threw_ him. Spencer slammed into the tiled floor hard, before skittering back a good ten feet, coming to rest against another set of tables. For a second, Khan spared her a glance, his eyes flicking over her, before he strode over to where Spencer was trying to get up.

"Commander Harrison," Spencer gasped, "What-"

Khan reached down and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him easily before turning and slamming him into the closest wall.

"Do you enjoy this, doctor?" he snarled. "Do you enjoy knowing that whether or not you get to take your next breath is no longer up to you?"

As if to demonstrate his point, Sophia saw Khan tighten his grip, saw Spencer start to struggle for air.

"P-please," he gasped. "D-didn't do-"

"If you wish to keep your tongue, I suggest you stop speaking."

Khan's voice had dropped to an icy hiss that Sophia swore actually dropped the temperature of the entire room. She shivered. Even knowing his anger wasn't directed at her, she couldn't stop the instinctual reaction she had to seeing someone so predatory, so feral, unleashing his fury.

"You would attack an unarmed woman, a woman half your size?" he continued.

It was a rhetorical question, and Spencer wisely chose to keep silent.

"And for what, some false belief that if she were no longer here, I would want you instead?"

Disdain had never been so well personified as in Khan's voice.

"I have no use for cowards."

"B-because I'm a m-man," Spencer stuttered.

Khan actually laughed, the sound so chilling it made all of the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"Don't flatter yourself," he sneered. "I've fucked my fair share of men. Now-"

He reached for Spencer's right hand with his free one, twining their fingers together almost like a lover would.

"Is this the hand you used to hit Dr. Summers? I believe it is."

And then there was nothing but screams.

Spencer's voice was muted by the hand at his throat, but even that didn't stop the pained cries from escaping his mouth, and it certainly didn't stop the way his face turned bone white before he went limp in Khan's grasp. The latter, his face alight with a savagery Sophia had only glimpsed before, smiled humorlessly before dropping his victim to the floor.

"Get up," he said emotionlessly.

Spencer staggered to his feet, whimpering and cradling his crushed hand.

"You will go to medical," Khan continued, as if he hadn't just broken every bone in the other man's hand. "And you will tell them you got your hand caught under a heavy piece of equipment. They will not believe you, but you will keep telling them that story. Because if you do not, I will find you, and I will break every bone in your body before gutting you like the coward you are. Now go."

And Spencer went.

Sophia didn't know what to do in the silence that followed.

Khan stood with his back still to her, his body perfectly still, for a long time. She couldn't see his face, couldn't see his expression, and she waited nervously for him to say something, anything. But when he turned around, his eyes still ablaze with fury, she wished he'd stayed facing the other way.

"Khan-" she started.

"You little fool," he snarled.

And then he was on her.

He was pressing her against the table, just like Spencer had, his hand at her throat, just as Spencer's had been. But she wasn't scared, wasn't worried. Because the body that loomed over hers was curved protectively around her, the hand at her throat gentle as it traced the bruises she knew would soon be forming. Khan's body may have been vibrating with anger, but as his wintry eyes bored into hers, she knew without a doubt that he would not hurt her.

"What would you have done, had I not been here?" he asked.

It wasn't a question meant to be answered, so she stayed quiet.

"Would you have let him strike you again? Let him rape you?"

Again, she sensed the question was more for himself than it was for her, and she said nothing.

"Human," he snarled. "You are human. So very fragile. Had I not been here, he would have done whatever he wanted to you, and you would not have been able to stop him."

"I would have tried," she said, finally deciding she'd stayed silent long enough. "I may be human, and he may be stronger than me, but I would have fought him."

He seemed to think about that for a moment, his eyes narrowing.

"You would have fought him, but it would not have been enough," he said eventually.

"No," she answered, softly. "It probably wouldn't have been. So, thank you, for saving me."

And he had, saved her. She knew the truth of his words, knew that if he hadn't been here, Spencer would have been able to do whatever he liked. The weight of that realization seemed to finally hit her, and she felt herself starting to shake, felt her lower lip beginning to tremble. She tried to not to show it, tried to hide her weakness from him, but he saw it anyways, and his icy glare eased.

"Sophia," he murmured, touching her cheek. "Sophie."

His thumb stroked the sore spot Spencer's hand had left gently.

"Had I not been here, he would have hurt you, yes. But that is not something to worry about, sweeting, because there will never be a time that I am not here."

She felt her eyes widen at that, knew there was disbelief on her face.

"Khan-"

"I see you do not believe me," he said, sighing. "But you should."

He bent so that their foreheads were touching, his eyes piercing into hers so deeply she could feel him in every part of her.

"When will you see?" he whispered. "When will you learn?"

"Learn wh-"

"That you are mine."

And then his mouth was on hers.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

2258.189

He wanted blood.

Khan fought to keep himself to in check, fought to keep his mouth and hands gentle as he held Sophia, as he kissed her. He didn't want to overwhelm her, didn't want to scare her, but if she knew the thoughts that were going through his head, she would no doubt have been as frightened of him as she was of Spencer. More so even, because Spencer was nothing more than a coward who needed to hurt others to stroke his own ego, but Khan… He had been created to be a killer, created to be savage and unfeeling, and part of him thrived on that, on the violence. Craved it even.

He was an excellent fighter, he knew that. He fought ruthlessly and efficiently, with calculated logic instead of emotion, and he knew it was that that had ensured he'd won every battle he'd ever entered. He controlled his bloodlust, controlled his savagery. He held it all in check, and for him, exacting pain had always been a means to an end, nothing more.

He remembered none of that now.

He had told Sophia that he would stop by at two o'clock, and he'd been exactly on time when he reached the doors to her lab. But before he could key himself in, he'd heard a dull thud, followed by the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, and for a moment, he'd frozen. He'd never before experienced a rush of emotion like the one that had overtaken him the second he'd realized someone had just struck Sophia, his Sophia. It had been instantaneous and volatile and all-consuming, and when he finally did regain control of himself, it'd taken everything in him to not give into his instincts then and there. Taking the time to fish out his PADD and kill the cameras in her lab, much the same as he did the ones in his own lab, had been the most difficult thing he'd ever done.

But after that, nothing could have stopped him.

All of his famed control, all of his rigid restraint…none of it mattered. Pure fury had lit his blood as he'd grabbed Spencer and thrown him to the ground, as he'd seized him by the throat and dragged him to his feet. Even snapping the fragile bones in the other man's hand hadn't been enough to quell his rage. No longer was pain a means to an end, it was a means to _revenge_. Revenge for the handprint that collared Sophia's throat, for the ugly welt where Spencer's ring had collided with her cheekbone. For the fear in her eyes. And most of all, for the fact that Spencer had dared to put his hands on his woman.

And she most certainly was his woman.

He didn't love her, didn't even think he knew what love was, but the sheer depth of feeling he had for her was one he no longer chose to deny. His reaction to Spencer had only proved what he'd already realized, and he knew without a doubt that he would not let Sophia go. Not while he was here, not when he left, and not, he suspected, for a long while after that. So no, breaking Spencer's hand hadn't been nearly enough to assuage his rage, and the _need_ for blood, for screams, was still riding him hard. But Spencer was gone, and as long as they both worked for Marcus, he was untouchable. So Khan did the only thing he could do.

He kissed Sophia harder.

At first she stiffened, but when he slid his hand from her waist to her throat, collaring it lightly, she relaxed, melting against him and pressing closer in an entreaty for more. He was more than happy to oblige her. He bit down on her lower lip, hard, growling in approval when she opened for him. The taste of her immediately overtook his senses, and his cock throbbed in response. She tasted like desire, like seduction and passion and desperate want, all wrapped up in the flavor of his sweet, sweet, Sophie, and fuck, but he wanted her.

Seeing her hurt, and not being able to avenge her like he should have, had wakened something primal and instinctual inside of him that demanded he mark her, demanded he claim her. She was _his_ goddammit, and he wanted everyone else to know it, wanted to put his marks on her so everyone else knew to stay the fuck away. Tearing his mouth from hers, he trailed hot, openmouthed kisses down her jaw to her throat, finding her pulse point before biting down hard. She cried out, but the sound only heightened his arousal, made him want her more, and he bared his teeth in satisfaction when he looked at the angry red that bloomed across the pale expanse of her skin.

"Khan-"

"Mine."

He slid his hand into her hair, weaving his fingers through the silky strands, and tilted her head back to look at him. Without his asking, she raised her eyes to meet his. They were bright and glassy and hazy with desire, and his hand tightened convulsively.

He wanted her. His body was on fire, and his cock ached to be inside of her, and he didn't think he'd ever wanted a woman as much as he wanted her. He'd wanted her for weeks, for moths even, and now, when he finally saw that same desire reflected in her eyes, he knew there was no way he'd be able to stop. If she looked at him with those eyes of hers for one more second, he was going to lose every shred of the control he was so precariously clinging on to.

"Sophia," he growled. "I-"

"Please."

And he lost it.

His mouth was on hers again in the space of a breath, and he didn't ask permission for or coax what he wanted from her this time, he took it. All of his pent up want, all of this new anger and frustration, mixed and fused inside of him to create a volatile cocktail of emotion that he no longer tried to control. Instead, he let it rage through him, and he held nothing back as he claimed her lips, her mouth, her tongue. No matter what he'd said before, his Sophie tasted like _sin_, like sex, like addiction, and he wanted more.

Never once removing his mouth from hers, he gripped her waist, not bothering to give her a warning before he lifted her and set her down on the edge of the counter behind her. The table was the perfect height, and he stepped between her spread knees, shoving up her skirt roughly as he pulled her hips flush to his. He groaned. He could feel the heat of her through both layers of their clothing, and his cock jumped in eager anticipation.

One hand still tangled in her hair, he used the other to yank down the zipper at the back of her dress, sliding it down as far as he could with her still sitting. Without him having to ask, she slid her arms from the sleeves, and he wasted no time in pushing the material down to her hips. And then, no matter how much he loved her mouth, he had to pull back.

The sight of her nearly undid him.

Her hair was in utter disarray, mussed and tangled from where he'd gripped it, falling into eyes that were as hungry and desperate as he knew his own must be. Her mouth was swollen from his kisses, his bite mark stood out in harsh relief on her throat, and her cheeks were flushed that delicate shade of pink that seemed to have been designed purely to drive him crazy. Greedily, his eyes slid lower, taking in the creamy expanse of skin and the simple white lace bra that cupped her breasts.

"Beautiful," he murmured.

He didn't have fancy words to give her, had never been one for poems and songs. All he knew was that in that moment, she was the most gorgeous thing he'd ever laid eyes on, and he didn't hesitate to tell her with his words and with his mouth. Without giving her any warning, he bent and took her nipple into his mouth, suckling her through the cloth.

"Khan!"

She moaned softly, and he sucked harder, worrying the hardening bud between his teeth.

"Hmm, I like the sounds you make."

He delivered a lazy swipe with his tongue, reveling in the way she moaned for him again, in the way she arched towards him. She was so very, very sensitive, and he took a savage sort of satisfaction in the responses he could drag from her body. But when her hands found his hair, trying to pull him closer, he nipped her nipple punishingly. In return, she whimpered, the sound a mixture of pleasure of pain that went straight to his cock, and he grunted as his hips jerked forward, searching for some sort of contact. Shit, but if he didn't get inside of her soon, he was going to combust. His cock was _dripping_ pre-come, and he'd never needed anything as badly as he did this. So with one last scrape of his teeth, he pulled away from her breast, straightening to claim her mouth again as he reached to rid her of her panties. This flimsy white lace stood no chance in the face of his arousal, and he ripped them off of her with a low growl. He tossed them to the ground, not caring where they landed.

God, she was soaked. He groaned as he felt how wet she was, sliding his fingers between slick folds to find her clit. She cried out as he flicked over it, her hands scrabbling to find purchase on his shoulders. For a few long moments, he toyed with her, circling her entrance teasingly while he massaged her clit with his thumb. His lips still fused to hers, he fucked his tongue in and out of her mouth slowly, a prelude to what was to come. When she began to whimper, her hips writhing on the table as she tried to get closer, he granted her one finger, sliding it slowly into her.

Fuck.

She was burning hot and impossibly tight, and he plunged a second finger into her without thinking. Velvety walls gripped him like a silken fist, and he groaned. If she was this tight around two fingers, the feel of her around his cock was likely to kill him. Dropping his mouth to her neck, he worked on making a second mark while he pumped his fingers in and out of her. In return, she moaned and mewled and whined, rocking her hips up to meet his thrusts, her hands running through his hair, over his shoulders, his back.

She couldn't know what those pleading little sounds did to him.

Power and sex had always been viscerally connected for him, and one didn't exist without the other. But now, with this woman, with every feeling, every dominating urge multiplied a thousand fold, those sounds were chipping away at the last of his sanity. Begging was usually a sign of weakness to him, a sign of defeat, but not with her. No, because she wasn't begging him to stop, she was begging him to _keep going_, and he realized in that moment that her pleas didn't make her weak, but him. He was helpless to deny her, to refuse her, and when she whimpered out one small word, a "please," so soft he barely caught it, he knew he was done for.

Snarling something unintelligible, he tore his fingers out of her, his hands going to his pants as he undid them and shoved them down just far enough to free his erection. He groaned as his cock finally escaped the confines of his pants, then cursed as the mere brush of his fingers against his shaft nearly had him coming. He'd never been this sensitive before, never been this desperate to come. Gripping the base firmly, he squeezed hard, trying to stave off his orgasm, as he pressed himself against her entrance.

He tried to go slow, he honestly did. But the feel of her wet heat against the head of his cock ridded his brain of every thought except the need to be inside her, and he slammed forward, burying himself deep with one, hard thrust.

And then he froze.

_Shit_. She was a virgin.

God, he'd _known _she was a virgin. The kind of innocence and naiveté that surrounded her like a cloak practically screamed that she was untouched, and though he'd never asked, he'd always known. But now, when it mattered most, he'd forgotten that. He cringed as her pained cry sounded through the air, then flinched again, this time in self-loathing, when he realized he was still hard as a diamond. He'd taken her for the first time, for _her_ first time, with both of them still mostly clothed, on a table, in a lab, and the only thing his cock cared about was coming. Fuck, _most_ of him only cared about coming.

He truly hated himself right then.

"Khan."

The sound was a pained whimper, and something inside of him broke in that moment.

He didn't know how to give comfort, had never attempted to in the whole of his life, but he did so now. He didn't care what words passed his lips, only knew that she needed them, and that perhaps he did too.

"Shh, sweeting," he crooned. "You're fine."

He kissed her cheek, her eyelids, her nose, murmuring absolute nonsense while he waited for her pain to fade. Something he could only call tenderness replaced the animal-like lust that had been riding him since the moment Spencer had walked out of the door, and he stroked her hair gently, soothingly. Only when she whispered his name again, pleadingly this time, did he dare to move. He pulled back slowly, so slowly he thought it would kill him, before sinking back into her with equal caution.

Never before had he taken such care with a woman.

He thrust deep and slow, forcing himself to stay in control, to be gentle. Slipping one hand between their joined bodies, he thumbed her clit in time to his strokes, gritting his teeth as she clamped down on his cock in reaction. Her orgasm was building, he knew. He could feel it in the way she started to clench around him, could see it in the glaze that was taking over her eyes. But, at the same time, there was a telltale tingling at the base of his spine, and he knew that if she didn't come soon, he would. Desperate, he stroked her clit faster and dropped his lips to her ear.

"Get there, Sophie," he ordered hoarsely.

She gripped him tighter, and he groaned in agony.

"Close," she whimpered. "Please, I-"

"_Now_, Sophie."

He slammed into her at the same time he pinched her clit, and the effect was instantaneous.

She came with a soft scream, her back bowing and thrusting her breasts towards him as she spasmed around his cock. Jaw locked, he worked her through it, thrusting shallowly and fingering her gently until she the tremors left her body. Until she calmed.

And then he tore himself away.

His cock still agonizingly hard, he pulled out, wrenching himself away from her before he could come, before he could satisfy the bone-jarring _need_ that wrapped around him and squeezed until it hurt to draw breath. Without looking at her, he tucked himself back into his pants, hissing in pain as he did so.

"Khan?"

"Don't."

And just like that, the tenderness he'd been feeling disappeared and was replaced with disgust and rage, so quickly he barely registered the change.

"Khan, what-"

He spun back around to face her.

He'd never seen anything more gorgeous.

Her hair was mussed, yes, her lips were swollen, yes, but that wasn't it. Nor was it her state of undress or his marks on her throat. No, it was the glitter in her eyes and the rosy glow on her cheeks that made her more beautiful than anything or anyone he'd seen before, and as he remembered exactly what had made those things happen, his anger only intensified.

"I should not have fucked you."

The words escaped his mouth before he was aware of them forming on his lips, and _shit_, but the confused and hurt look in her eyes only made the anger _worse_.

He shouldn't have fucked her. That much was true. She had been a virgin, and though he sure as hell hadn't wanted anyone else to be her first, _he_ certainly shouldn't have been her first either. No, she had deserved gentleness and sweet words and a _bed_ for fuck's sake. Not a genetic experiment who had more savagery than humanity taking her on a goddamn table in a goddamn laboratory. He hated himself for what he'd done.

But he also hated her.

Hated her because he cared, hating her for making him care. She was his, yes, but that didn't mean he was going to _change_ for her. He was still Khan, was still leader of the last remaining Augments in history and once-ruler of an empire larger than that of even the Romans. He was still ruthless and savage and a born killer, and it was not like him to care that he hadn't been able to give her the softness she deserved. But he did, care that was, and he snarled in irritation at the realization. He'd never been so torn between what he should have been feeling and what he did feel, and the fact that his cock was aching in denied satisfaction certainly wasn't making things any easier. Frustrated, he slammed his hands down on either side of her.

"Khan?" she asked again, softer this time.

Her eyes were still confused, and he knew she was scared. But underneath all of that, in her gaze and in her voice, was worry, worry _for_ him. Fuck. The itching under his skin was back, tugging at him and tormenting him, and it was without thinking that he pressed a kiss to her lips. She opened for him without hesitation, trusting no matter her confusion, and it was then that he realized that no matter how much he wanted to blame her, his anger was for himself and only himself. Disgusted with his own weakness, he pulled away.

"I should not have fucked you," he repeated.

And then he walked away.

**AN: Sorry to leave you on such a cliffhanger! But, as I've said before, Khan isn't perfect. So many people are focused on the fact that he's an Augment and that he's, well, _Khan_, and he becomes this sort of invincible hero. At his base, though, Khan is just as flawed as everyone else, perhaps even more so emotionally, and he really has no idea how he's supposed to connect to Sophia. He cares for her, but he doesn't know _why_, and that scares him. Hence, the pulling away. Anyway, I know that this has been a long-awaited scene for a lot of you, and I hope I did Khan and Sophia's first (well, half) time justice!**

**As always, please review!**


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

2258.190

_The cameras were off. Marcus does not know._

Eight words.

Sophia stared blankly at the screen of her PADD, trying to get her heart to catch up with what her brain already knew. She'd given him her acceptance, her submission, her virginity — and in return, he'd given her eight words. They had been enclosed in an unsigned message sent to her communicator in the early hours of the morning, but she knew who they were from.

Ironic, that it was his rejection that had made her realize she loved him.

She didn't really know when it had happened, or why, even, just that it had. Somewhere between him strangling her half to death and him breaking Spencer's hand for her, she'd fallen in love with him. Part of it, she knew, was his physical appearance — his striking features, his body. Part of it was his intelligence. Another part was the way he carried himself, his quiet confidence and composure, his dominance. She liked that about him, liked that he was so overtly masculine and authoritative and possessive, though he had never once given her the impression that he thought of her as less than him. It made her feel both wanted and respected, a heady combination she had been helpless to resist.

And then of course, there was his unwavering loyalty to his crew.

It was what had first drawn her to him, what had held her captive even that first day, when he had shown her nothing but contempt. If she had known nothing else about him, that would have been enough to tell her what kind of man he was, the character he held, and combined with everything else she did know about him, it'd made it impossible not to fall for him. And so, as days had turned into weeks and weeks into months, she'd allowed herself to care for him, to want him. To crave his presence and his touch. And in return, she'd nursed the silent hope that he would return her sentiments. It wasn't that she'd expected him to love her back, but she'd hoped he would come to see her with some sort of affection, even if it was only a portion of the feeling he reserved for his crew. She'd hoped he would come to care for her.

What a fool she'd been.

He hadn't been able to get away from her fast enough yesterday, hadn't bothered to wait for her to say anything before he'd left. In fact, he hadn't even-. She clenched her jaw. He hadn't even finished. Instead, he'd fucked her into an orgasm and then pulled out. And, the worst part was, she knew he'd done it because she'd been a virgin.

She wasn't an idiot. She knew he'd been…_enjoying_ himself. There were a lot of things a man could lie about, but an erection was not one of them, and she knew he'd been as caught up in the passion between them as she had been. But when he'd thrust into her, when he'd realized she'd been untouched, he'd frozen. The lust had left his eyes, and his movements had lost their desperation, their edge. He'd touched her mechanically, robotically, like what he'd been doing had been a chore for him. But, traitor that it was, her body had responded to him, and she'd come for the first time in her life.

She'd never felt so dirty.

As soon as the shock of what had happened had left her, as soon as she'd been able to move again, she'd put her clothes back on and returned to her room, where she'd spent the next half hour standing in the shower and willing herself not to cry. It wasn't that he'd hurt her — no, she'd felt how much he'd been holding back, how much effort he'd put into being gentle. He'd given her first orgasm for god's sake, even if he'd denied himself. But, she thought bitterly, it was the very fact that he _had_ denied himself, that he had pulled out, that made her so upset. It was as if she wasn't good enough, as if she was beneath him. As if all of his respect for her intelligence and accomplishments and character weren't enough to make her worthy of him. She'd dealt her entire life with people telling her the same, but he was the first to make her start to believe it.

She hated him for that.

No matter what her fellow students or her coworkers had thrown at her, had said about her, she'd always been able to hold her head high. She'd always known that she had deserved whatever position she'd earned, had always been confident in her abilities and her achievements. But Khan…when he'd left her, it'd been a very clear message that that still wasn't enough for him to want her. It made her doubt herself in ways she never had before, and she hated him more than she'd ever hated anyone for doing that to her.

And yet, she loved him.

It shamed her, how desperately she still wanted him, still needed him. It killed her to know that the only thing she wanted more than for him to never bother her again was for him to hold her and tell her that everything would be all right, that he hadn't meant to hurt her. She wanted to see him so badly it was a physical ache.

_Beep, beep_.

The chiming of her communicator jolted her back to reality, and she felt her heart quicken when she thought it might be Khan. But the name that flashed across the screen was not his, and she fought down a wave of mixed apprehension and disappointment — it was Marcus, demanding she report to his office immediately. She swallowed nervously. Ever since Khan had sent Spencer running out of the lab yesterday, she'd worried about what was going to happen. Spencer wasn't stupid, and she didn't think he would deviate from the story Khan had set him, but that didn't mean that he would be believed, or that people higher up wouldn't look into it. That Khan had turned the cameras off before he'd entered didn't change the fact that they had been on when Spencer had assaulted her. Anyone with access to the tapes could see what had happened.

Her stomach a roiling mass of nerves, she made her way to Marcus's office.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" she asked.

He sat behind his desk, his elbows resting against the wood, his fingers steepled under his chin. His mouth hovered somewhere between and scowl and a sneer, and his eyes were flinty. She shivered.

"Dr. Summers," he started. "You've been with us for three months."

"Yes, sir," she answered, unsure of where he was going with this.

"And in that time, you have managed to complete only some of the tasks you have been assigned."

"Yes, sir."

His eyes narrowed, as if he hadn't been expecting her to agree so readily to what was clearly an insult. But, no matter what Khan had done to damage her confidence, she knew she was a damn good geneticist, and she was confident that no one would have been able to do what she had failed at. She had tried every method in the book, then every method that wasn't in the book, and she'd come to realize that replicating Augmented DNA was something that science just couldn't achieve at this point. In the future, yes, but right now, no, and she felt no shame in having tried her hardest even if she hadn't been successful.

"We don't tolerate failure in Section 31."

Marcus dropped his hands, his palms flattening against the desk as he leaned forward ever so slightly.

"You are to be relieved of your duties here and sent back to London Headquarters. Effective immediately."

For a moment, she didn't know what to say.

It wasn't as if she enjoyed working here, it wasn't as if she wanted to stay. Marcus's threat to Christian hung over her head like an ever-present ax, waiting to drop at any minute, and each day was spent hoping she didn't do anything to anger the Admiral. Her work was confidential, her communications were limited, and for all intensive purposes, she was a prisoner. She should have hated it here. She did hate it here. But no matter all of that, this place was her one link to Khan, and she couldn't help the instant panic she felt at the thought of never seeing him again. In that moment, it didn't matter what he'd done or what he'd said, it only mattered that she loved him.

"Admiral-"

"Effective immediately."

She knew better than to argue.

Fighting to keep her composure, she listened as he told her she'd have until the end of the day to pack up her belongings before a hover car took her back to her apartment. He told her to keep the PADD and communicator they'd assigned her, and that her own, confiscated materials would be returned to her when she left. He told her not to try to take any of the research she'd done with her, that doing so would result in her immediate arrest. And then he dismissed her.

She didn't remember the next few hours very well.

She knew that she had to have visited her office, had to have picked up her PADD and the files she'd brought with her from Headquarters. She knew she must have gone back to her room to pack up her clothes, knew that she'd stopped by Security to pick up the items that had been taken from her when she arrived. Logically, she realized that there must have been a hover car waiting to take her back to her apartment, that she hadn't just appeared in her living room on her own. But, hours later, when she sat perched on her couch, she remembered none of this. She stared unseeingly at the wall, her mind void of all thoughts save for one.

She hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye.

* * *

"That's really great, Christian. I'm so happy for you."

Sophia worked to juggle her communicator with one hand and two bags of groceries with the other as she closed the hatch of her hover car. Replicators were fine for making meals, but she'd always liked to cook, and food just didn't taste the same when it wasn't made with fresh ingredients. As such, she made bi-weekly trips to the grocer's a few blocks from her apartment, one of the only remaining ones in London, to buy enough fruits and vegetables to last herself a few days, while things like flour and meat she bought in bulk and stored or froze. This particular excursion had ended with Christian calling to tell her that he had gotten engaged to his long-term girlfriend Noelle, and she smiled affectionately as she made her way into her building. The two of them might not have been particularly close, but he was still her brother, and she was genuinely happy for him.

Besides, thinking about him meant she wasn't thinking about Khan.

It'd been almost two weeks since she'd left Section 31, almost two weeks since she'd last seen him. In that time she'd settled back into her old life, gone back to her old job. As Marcus had promised, her position at Headquarters had been waiting for her return, and she'd found her lab exactly the way she'd left it, had found Mark just as grumpy as she'd left him. Her old routines had come back easily to her, from her daily runs to her shopping trips to her weekly calls to her parents, and she'd fallen into them with little effort. Her life, one she had been perfectly content with before she'd left, was essentially the same now as it had been then. But somehow, that wasn't enough anymore. She didn't miss the Section, didn't even miss the more advanced equipment and technology it'd possessed, but part of her still wanted to be there, and all of her still wanted to be with Khan.

She'd thought about him a lot in the past few weeks, but she figured that that was to be expected. Just because he'd hurt her didn't mean she forgot about him or even that she wanted to, and a large portion of her alone time had been spent wondering what he was doing, what he was working on. Construction of the _Vengeance_ had been well under way by the time she'd left, and she knew Marcus had assigned him a whole host of other projects as well. And so she wondered about his work, and she wondered about his crew, and she wondered most of all about whether he ever thought about her.

It was pathetic, really, and she acknowledged that. He'd made it quite obvious he didn't want her, and the logical thing for her to do would have been to go on a date with another man and put Khan from her mind forever. But that wasn't who she was, and it wasn't who she wanted to be, and so she kept to herself with only her thoughts of him for company.

"Sophia?"

She'd been so caught up in her thoughts that she'd forgotten Christian was on the other end of her communicator, and she jumped in surprise at the sound of him saying her name. Abashed, she forced herself to focus on the conversation she was having with her brother, rather than on thoughts of her absent lover, as she made her way into the turbo-lift that would take her to her floor.

"I was asking you about helping Noelle plan the shower. I know you're really busy and all, but I think it'd be a great way for you two to bond."

She made a face, glad Christian couldn't see her. She'd never been a particularly girly person, and the thought of planning a party with lace and flowers and balloons and sparkles didn't really appeal to her. Still, her only brother was going to get married only once, and as she stepped out of the lift, she found herself agreeing to his request.

"Thanks Soph, this really means a lot. Noelle has her heart set on a big shower and an even bigger ceremony, and she's going to need help. She-"

Whatever he said next, she didn't hear.

Khan was leaning against the door to her apartment.

If it was possible, he'd gotten handsomer since she'd last seen him. His arms were crossed casually across his chest, and he lounged lazily against the door, but she could see the coiled power in his deceptively relaxed muscles. And, though it wasn't by much, his hair had grown longer, the inky strands pushed back from running his hand through them, as she knew he often did. His face was as expressionless as always, his eyes just as piercing as they turned at the sound of her approach. In short, two weeks of telling herself she didn't need him anymore had done nothing to change the fact that there mere sight of him had her heart pounding and her blood heating, and it took her a second to remember how to put one foot in front of the other as she lost herself in the icy blue of his gaze.

"Soph? Soph, are you still there?"

Christian's voice snapped her out of her daze.

"I, um, I have to go Christian. My boss just sent me a message about…genetics."

It wasn't her most creative lie, indeed it barely qualified as one it was so pathetic, but her brain wasn't currently in its finest working order, and it was all she had. Her brother, bless his heart, seemed to realize that something was up, and he didn't press her for further details before he let her go. She pressed END before he finished saying goodbye.

"Sophia."

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she would see him again, let alone that he would seek her out, but that didn't mean she hadn't envisioned what she would say if she did. She'd imagined all sorts of witty or snappy remarks she could make, fantasized about the righteous tongue-lashing she'd give him. But now, when he was actually in front of her, all she could think about was how much she'd _missed_ him, missed his silent strength and his comforting presence and the way the quirk at the corner of his mouth was more compelling than a full-blown grin from anyone else. All she could process was how much she wanted to throw herself into his arms.

"Sophia," he repeated.

He detached himself from the wall and stalked over to her with predatory grace. Never once did his gaze leave her, never once did his attention falter. He'd always been like that, focusing completely and unwaveringly on whatever held his attention, but whereas it'd made her feel wanted, special, before, it only made her nervous now. She stood rooted to the spot as he moved towards her, wondering if this was what a zebra felt like right before it got eaten by a lion.

She suspected this was worse.

Khan didn't seem any more inclined to talk than she was however, and when he reached her, instead of speaking like she'd expected him to, he wordlessly reached for her grocery bags. He took both of them in hand and then turned, as if expecting her to follow. The message was clear — he expected for them to conduct whatever conversation he had in mind inside the privacy of her apartment. Part of her wanted to refuse, just to irritate him, to give herself some petty sort of revenge, but this was Khan, and she figured that one way or another, he would get his way. Giving in now seemed like the easiest thing to do, and with her communicator clutched tightly in her hands, she moved to open the door to her apartment.

As silly as it was, the first thought through her head when she entered the foyer was that she was extremely glad she'd tidied up the day before. She was pretty neat to begin with, but she'd had some extra time yesterday and had decided that it wouldn't hurt to do a little cleaning. As such, her bookshelves were meticulously organized, her kitchen was spotless, and the living room table was polished to a shine. All of this, however, seemed to be lost on Khan, who had paused only to remove his shoes at the door before taking her bags into the kitchen and setting them on the island. The simple domesticity of the act struck a chord deep within her, making her long for something she couldn't quite put a name to. But, the futility of the idea stuck her as soon as the idea itself did, and irritation replaced her longing.

"I'm perfectly capable of carrying my own groceries," she said snappily, elbowing him none-too-gently out of the way as she reached for the first bag.

If he was surprised by her irritation, which he shouldn't have been, she thought, he didn't show it. Instead, he allowed himself to be displaced, moving to stand on the opposite side of the island as he watched her. Half of her was glad for the respite the physical distance gave her, half of her wished he would come closer. The indecision only made her anger increase, and she wrenched open the door to the refrigerator harder than she'd intended to.

"I do not doubt you are," he finally said. "But you should not have to."

She was going to punch him, she really was. She'd spent two weeks pining after him, wishing he'd come back, wishing he'd tell her why he'd left her. Because he had, left her. And, in her opinion, that lost him the right to do anything except explain himself, but here he was carrying her groceries. It was really too infuriating for words, and any happiness she'd felt at seeing him again was instantly masked by vexation.

"I'm not an invalid," she fairly growled.

"No," he agreed. "But you are mine."

And there went her temper.

Instead of placing the apple in her hand in the refrigerator, she threw it as his head, but any satisfaction she might have gotten out of the act was negated when his hand moved to catch it. At the last second before the apple hit his face, he plucked it out of the air with an absent fluttering of his fingers.

"I'm not yours," she snapped.

His answer was the last thing she'd expected.

"I meant what I said when I told you I should not have fucked you."

It was quite possibly the worst thing he could have said, and she strongly considered tossing the slab of meat in her hands at him next. But the bastard would only catch it like he had the apple, so she resorted to verbal abuse instead.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" she spat. "I got it the first time, you don't want me. You really didn't have to come all the way over here to stomp on the bits of my pride that were still in tact. I can assure you, there weren't many left."

"Sophia-"

"You never really struck me as the gloating type, but I guess I could have been wrong about that, seeing as I was also wrong about thinking you cared about me."

Her voice wavered just the tiniest bit, and she mentally hit herself. This was two weeks worth of pent up anger, and though there was a hefty bit of hurt in there as well, he didn't need to know that.

"Sophia," he started again.

"No! I don't want to hear you talk or explain yourself. You had that chance and the first thing you said was definitely _not_ correct. So leave. I got fired, as I'm sure you realized, so you don't have to see me anymore, and thank god I don't have to have to see you either."

Instead of answering, he circled the counter, moving towards her. Panic set in — not because she thought he would hurt her, but because she was sure he wouldn't. His gaze was equal parts heat and possessiveness, and his walk was pure, predatory sex. His intent was clear, and she stumbled back a step. Instantly, his hand shot out to steady her, before dragging her up against his body.

She shuddered.

It didn't matter how upset she had been, didn't matter how furious she currently was. She'd missed him, desperately, and the feel of his body pressed against hers made her mind short circuit. All she could think about was how much she still wanted him, still loved him.

"Don't," she choked out. "Let me go."

His stormy gaze softened ever so slightly at the pain in her voice.

"Sweeting-"

"You don't get to call me that!"

To her horror, tears started gathering in her eyes.

"You don't get to call me that," she said again, this time in a whisper. "You don't get to come here and pretend that you didn't leave me. If you want my forgiveness, fine, you have it, but I won't give you anything else. I _can't_, don't you get it? I already gave you everything. I gave you my trust, I gave you my body. God, I gave you my _virginity-_"

"I know."

He caught her face between his hands, his palms framing her face. The look in his eyes was gentle and unyielding at the same time, and she shivered.

"I know," he repeated, his voice soft. "I know the magnitude of what you gave me that day, and that is why I should not have fucked you. I should have made love to you, like you deserved."

Shock flared through her, and struggled to remember how to breathe, let alone how to form a sentence.

"You have to understand, Sophia, I did not leave because I didn't want you. I left because I did. When I realized you were a virgin, I hated myself for not treating you better, and then I hated you for making me want to."

He gave a small, self-deprecating laugh.

"I did not want to care about you. For me, ownership and attachment have never been connected, and I did not see why it had to be different with you. You could be mine, you _are_ mine-"

His voice slid into a growl on the last part, and he pulled her a bit closer.

"-but I did not have to care. That I did was equally infuriating and terrifying, and that is why I left you, Sophia."

"So why-"

"Being apart from you these past days is an experience I never wish to repeat. As soon as my anger faded, I realized how lonely it was without you there, without your touch, your smile, your laugh. And before you get some ridiculous idea that I only want you because I can't have my crew, I can assure you that even had Marcus handed me back my people that very afternoon, I would still be here today."

His voice softened, and he brushed a thumb over her lower lip tenderly.

"It killed me to be apart from you," he murmured. "To not be able to see you, not be able to touch you. It made me realize how much I'd come to depend on you being there, how big a part of my life you had become. Even then, I clung to the stubborn idea that it was simply physical longing that made me want to seek you out."

"Khan-"

"Let me finish, sweeting. I still believed that I did not need you, but as time went on, the longing did not go away, the ache did not leave. Instead, it got worse. The longer I was away from you, the more I craved you, the more I wanted to see you. Not just for me, but for you. I had to know that _you_ were okay, and it was then I realized the futility of my stubbornness."

He bent to feather a kiss over her lips, so lightly she barely felt it.

"It was foolishness to believe that I could separate my emotions from what I felt for you," he said. "I realized in that moment that, no matter my desire to remain distant, aloof, the other option was not having you at all, and that was unacceptable."

He kissed her again, longer this time, his teeth nibbling gently at her mouth.

"A part of me still does not want to care, Sophia. It is something I suspect I will have to work on, and it will not change overnight. But I understand now that you can not be mine, not fully, not the way I want you to be, without me giving something back. You can not belong to me if I do not belong to you as well."

He touched his forehead to hers.

"I am yours, Sophia. As much as you are mine, I am yours."

His eyes met hers.

"I am yours, and I promise you that I will never leave you again."

**AN: I've never really liked dragging out tension between two characters, it's not my thing, hence, Khan's return and the resolution to our conflict. Now, I realize that the Khan in this chapter might seem a bit OOC to some of you, but I hope that you understand. The Khan we see in Into Darkness is one who has lost everything and everyone, and he's certainly not in the best frame of mind. As such, we really have no idea how he'd act if he were ever say, in love, so any representation of that would be a bit OOC, I believe. Anyway, I tried to make it clear that he fought his feelings as long as he could (two weeks, the jerk) before finally coming back. Even then, our domineering Augment can't simply apologize, he has to well..._that_. I've endeavored to make him as dominate and possessive and intense as ever, no matter that we're seeing an entirely new side of him, and I hope you all enjoy it!**

**Please review!**


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

2258.190

"_I am yours, and I promise you that I will never leave you again.__"_

Khan barely dared to breathe as he held Sophia's face cradled between his hands, waiting for her to answer him. He didn't know what man had replaced the mighty Khan Noonien Singh, didn't know what foreign mind was inhabiting his body. He'd never said words like the one's he'd just said to her in his entire life, but frankly, in that moment, he didn't give two fucks. He might have been extremely dominant and just this side of arrogant, but he wasn't a fool, and he knew when to accept blame. More importantly, he'd always done whatever was necessary to get what he wanted, and Sophia wasn't just a want, she was a need.

The last two weeks had shown him that.

He'd been angry when he'd left her that day in the lab, there was no doubt about that. The knowledge of what he'd done to her, what he'd taken from her, had infuriated him. Self-disgust was not an emotion with which he was particularly well-acquainted, but he'd certainly felt it then, and in his mind, it'd been perfectly logical to be angry with her as well, seeing as she was the reason for all of his ire. As such, he'd spent a good few days telling himself that he was glad Marcus had fired her from the Archives, though it'd only taken until he'd had to go to Spencer for a blood test for him to realize how much he missed her presence. But it wasn't, he'd been surprised to discover, because of how much he hated Spencer, or even because the lab felt different, colder without her in it. No, it was because the moment he'd seen Spencer, he'd been reminded of the sheer rage he'd felt when the other man had struck Sophia, the volatile _need_ for revenge.

He'd never felt that intensely for anyone.

He'd been born to a surrogate mother who had been as much a prisoner of the labs he'd been created in as he had been. Raised among other of his kind, he'd been taught that strength came from ambition and ruthlessness, from doing whatever it took to survive and to succeed. As such, he hadn't exactly made many friends among his fellow Augments, something that hadn't changed even when he'd started to build his empire. Out of necessity, he'd had many acquaintances, comrades, and retainers, yes, but close companions were something that had always been missing from his life.

Things changed a bit when the humans had started hunting them, when it had become necessary to band together for survival. His had been one of the last standing Augment empires, and many had flocked to him for protection. When it had become obvious that the humans would prevail, those who had survived had chosen to continue following him, first in escaping what had been left of his territories and then in commandeering the _SS Botany Bay_. Their loyalty to him had earned his own in return, and in the few weeks they'd spent aboard the ship before entering cryosleep, he'd come to care deeply for those who represented the last surviving remnants of his race.

But not like this, not like what he felt for Sophia.

He'd been livid when Marcus had taken his crew from him, had been utterly enraged when the Admiral had begun using them as collateral, but even that was nothing compared to what he'd felt when Spencer had struck Sophia. It had been white-hot rage and icy fury all at the same time, a savage need to protect what was his. The sheer depth of emotion he'd felt in that moment was one he'd never before experienced, and even the echoing reminder of it had been enough for him to realize the mistake he'd made. She made him feel more alive than he ever had, both now and in his past life, and it hadn't taken him more than five minutes after seeing Spencer to realize that that wasn't something he was willing to give up.

That did not mean, however, that he'd gone to see her right away.

Foolish as it was, he had to admit that it had not sat well with him, admitting a mistake to somebody. Being raised to be a soldier had meant that mistakes had always been punished with the utmost severity, and after that, on the battle field, any sort of miscalculation had meant death. Even in normal life, errors in judgement or any slip or blunder had been considered a personal shortcoming, a sign of weakness. And, though he knew Sophia would be the last to judge him, a lifetime of programming was hard to negate, and he'd spent a long time refusing to see her for nothing but the sake of his pride.

One of the science officers at the Archives had changed that.

Marcus had called him into his office two days ago, asking him for his usual updates. Construction of the _Vengeance_ was progressing quickly — Khan had estimated its completion somewhere near the end of the year — and the multitude of other projects he'd been assigned were well under way as well. In short, he was working well ahead of the schedule that had been set, and he'd seen no reason for Marcus to complain. That did not, however, mean that Admiral had not complained. Marcus had demanded faster progress, had added another assignment, and then had threatened his crew for good measure. Needless to say, when he'd returned to his lab, he had not been in the best of moods, and the sight of one of the science officers waiting outside his door had not been a welcome one.

To her credit, Lt. Prentice, as she'd told him her name was, had been polite at first. She'd introduced herself and said that she'd stopped by to offer any aid that he might need, mentioning that it was odd that he'd never taken an assistant, and despite his irritation, he'd answered her in kind. However, there was only so much small talk he was capable of, and he'd excused himself after a moment to return to his work.

He had not expected her to follow him into his lab.

At first, he admitted, he hadn't noticed that she was behind him. Not for any lack of attention or vigilance on his part, but because it was so absurd to think someone would be that forward, or that stupid, that he hadn't believed his own senses. When the doors had closed and he'd still felt her behind him though, he'd been forced to accept that she had indeed, followed him inside. And, when she'd spoken next, he'd realized that she was not as polite as he'd first assumed her to be.

He'd turned her down, obviously, and had sent her off in near tears, but she had remained in his thoughts long after she'd left. Not because he regretted his decision to refuse her, and not because he felt any sort of lust for her, but because he didn't. No matter that her forwardness and brazenness were in no way attractive to him, she was a beautiful woman. Her hair was ash blonde, her eyes cerulean blue, and she had been very generously endowed. As such, it was odd for him to have not been even slightly interested — he'd certainly never had any scruples about indulging his baser needs before — and he'd concluded that it was because Prentice was not Sophia. That knowledge, that no other woman could interest him any more, had gone a long way to bringing him to see her, but it had not been the final chink in his resolve.

No, that had been the realization that another man could approach Sophia just as easily as Prentice had approached him.

He was a possessive man, he knew that already. Jealousy came easily to him, and it had not surprised him that he did not want other men anywhere near Sophia. What had startled him was the ache that he had felt at the very idea of her with somebody else.

They were not technically together, he knew that. In fact, he barely knew what being "together" even meant, and he disdained sayings like "girlfriend" or "in a relationship." There was something disgustingly civil about that, about something that, in his opinion, should not have been civil at all.

Which was exactly why the thought of her with someone else cut so deep.

He was not like other people, had not been raised to be. When he felt, he felt in a way that was basic and raw and primitive, in a way that was not controlled by the trappings of society, and what he felt for Sophia magnified all of those instincts a hundredfold. She was his, and it was in that moment that he'd finally realized what that meant, had realized that he couldn't choose which feelings he allowed himself to have for her. He could not have all of her, not the way he wanted to, if he gave her nothing in return.

He just hoped what he'd just given her was enough.

It was an odd feeling, baring his feelings so openly to somebody, and though it was not a particularly displeasing feeling, neither was it comfortable. Suffice to say, he hadn't exactly had much practice with it, and he mused that it was perhaps the one area in which he was completely inexperienced. He felt something he could only call anxiety coil in his stomach.

"Sophia?" he whispered. "Sweeting?"

"Did you mean what you said?" she asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "That you're mine?"

He fought down the instinctive urge to answer in the negative, and instead answered as honestly as he could.

"As much as I know how to be."

What she did next shocked him.

Sophia stood up on her toes to press her mouth to his, her lips brushing against his in a sweet little kiss whose brevity did nothing to change the effect it had on his body. Instantly, his blood heated, his muscles tightened. The taste of her, the scent of her — it was like a drug for him, and he forgot for a moment where he was and why he was here. He pulled her closer with a low groan, kissing her long and slow and deep, until his cock hardened and throbbed within the confines of his pants.

"Sophia," he said, his voice rough as he pulled away. "Do not tempt me, sweeting. I came here only to speak with you, not-"

"I know," she whispered. "I want you."

A growl slid from his throat, a warning.

"I will not leave you this time," he promised lowly. "If I stay, then you _will_ be mine. Do not ask for more than you are willing to-"

"Please."

That single word, the same one she had uttered the last time, cut through both his reasoning and his judgement, and he wasted no time in recapturing her mouth with his own. He growled again, this time in pleasure, as he parted her lips and tasted her for the first time in weeks. After so long without her, it was almost overwhelming now — her scent, her taste, her sounds. God, he'd forgotten what those sounds of hers did to him. Small little whimpers and moans that bypassed his ears and went straight to his cock.

His hands, still framing her face, angled her head to the side so he could kiss her harder, deeper. So his tongue could tangle with hers and he could bite her bottom lip, stinging little nips that he soothed with hot, teasing laves of his tongue. In turn, she opened for him, giving what he demanded from her and then offering more. He groaned. No woman had ever given him what she was giving him now, had ever submitted the way she did. He had only ever slept with a handful of humans, and they had usually been courtesans, trained to give him what he wanted. There had been nothing natural about it, and it had been easy to tell the difference.

As for his Augment sisters, and brothers for that matter, they were just as strong as him, just as proud. Not that Sophia was weak, never that, but Augments connected physical strength with inner strength. They believed that submitting inside the bedroom was the same as submitting outside of it, and they had never let him have complete control, not like this, not like Sophia. God, she was sweet.

He dropped his hands from her face, one sliding to her hip, the other weaving into the silky mass of her hair, both of them pulling her closer. He groaned as he felt her soft curves against his much harder frame. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and his cock thrust insistently against her stomach. Never before had a woman made him this hot, this fast, but after what felt like only seconds of kissing her, he was ready to fuck her senseless. His body was determined to show her what he hadn't been able to properly express in words, to make her understand, and it demanded that he claim her _now_.

"Bed," he rasped, pulling away only far enough to feather kisses over her cheeks, her jaw, the corner of her mouth.

Still, she protested the loss, gesturing vaguely with her hand in the general direction of the stairs before pulling his mouth back to hers. He wanted to smile at her her impatience, but he couldn't. His desire was riding him too hard, his need was too acute. He indulged her for a second, allowing her a brief kiss, before swinging her up in his arms and carrying her towards the stairs. He grunted when he felt her lips touch his neck, her mouth unerringly accurate as it found his pulse point and bit down. Shit, but she was playing his game, and she was playing it well, and he forgot to act human as he used his Augment speed to carry her up the stairs.

The upper floor was just as open as the lower one, light and airy, with what he assumed to be her at home laboratory in the far corner. He did not, however, care whatsoever about any of this, concerned only with the fact that the bed was easily accessible. He carried her over to it and laid her down, following so that he lay over her.

Seeing her like this, her creamy skin contrasting brilliantly with her cranberry colored sheets, her hair fanned out around her head, touched something in him that was primitively and innately male, and he reclaimed her mouth with a growl. Logically, he knew that he wasn't any closer to her physically now than he had been when they were standing, but something about having her underneath him was impossibly more intimate. It made him acutely more aware of how much smaller than him she was, how much more fragile. He could hurt her so easily, could break her with nothing more than a flick of his wrist, and they both knew it. But still, she opened for him, still she reached for him, her arms twining around his neck to pull him even closer. Whether it was in spite of the danger he represented or because of it, he didn't care, he just knew that the clothing separating them was suddenly unacceptable.

She was wearing a summer dress, something short and light and gauzy, and he took a moment to appreciate the sight of her in it. There was something utterly feminine about dresses than couldn't be achieved by pants, no matter how tight they were, or even by skirts, and he _liked_ the sight of her in them. For a brief moment, he considered taking her still clothed, his cock throbbing painfully at the thought, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Not this time, not now.

His breathing ragged, his eyes locked with hers, he urged her to sit up, waiting until she did so before reaching behind her to slide down the zipper of her dress. When it was lowered all the way, she lay back down and lifted her hips. Fuck. He knew she'd only done it so he could pull the dress off all the way, but with him kneeling between her thighs like this, with her nipples beading so prominently against the lace of her bra, with her chocolate eyes dilated with desire — his cock was getting the entirely wrong idea, and he gritted his teeth as it strained desperately against the confines of his pants.

Growling, he tore off his shirt and her bra before bending to kiss her again, reveling in the feel of her bare skin on his. It was soft and warm and unmarked, completely unlike his own, which was noticeably cooler, marred by the occasional scar. The stark contrast was somehow impossibly erotic, and he couldn't resist the urge to taste her throat. The marks he had left the last time were gone, not even the faintest traces of them remaining, and he bared his teeth. He would fix that.

Bending, he placed hot, wet kisses against her neck, ignoring her hands as they tried to pull her mouth back to his. Part of him was amused by her insistence, but the other part of him willed her to understand that he _needed_ this, needed to see his marks on her throat again. He found the spot he was looking for, just below her jaw, where her pulse fluttered delicately, and bit down. He alternated between worrying the spot with his teeth and sucking on it, growling as her hands moved to thread through his hair. Fuck but she was pulling him closer, encouraging him, and he was all too happy to oblige her. He chose another spot just above collarbone, and repeated the process.

"Mine," he snarled lowly when he was done, pulling back to see both marks glowing brilliantly red against the paleness of her skin. "No one will ever touch you again."

He wasn't sure where the sudden burst of possessiveness have come form, and he didn't really care. Everything with this woman was different, more powerful, more intense, and he didn't question his need to make her understand that he did not share.

"Say it," he ordered.

Her eyes darkened, her flush deepening.

"Mine," she whispered.

Fuck.

It wasn't what he'd wanted, but it was infinitely better, and he growled almost savagely as he took her mouth with bruising force. There was no asking anymore, no coaxing. He took what he wanted and then demanded more, his body wound so tight it was practically vibrating with need. He only separated from her long enough to rid them of the rest of their clothing, before he was on her again.

Without his prompting, one of her legs moved to circle his waist, pulling him closer while- _fuck_, pressing her wet heat directly against his cock. Instinctively, his hips rocked forward, and he hissed at the realization that she was already soaking wet. He'd barely touched her, and already she was ready for him. For a moment, he was tempted to thrust into her, to take her right that minute, but he decided against it. He'd been away from her for two damn weeks, and he was going to take his time this time, was going to give her what he hadn't had the frame of mind to do before.

Laughing lowly at her mewl of protest, he took his mouth from hers, licking and nipping a path down to her breasts. He wasted no time in taking one rosy nipple into his mouth, reveling in the way she cried out and arched against him. He alternated hard, sucking pulls with sharp nips of his teeth, remembering how well she'd reacted to the bite of pain before. She didn't disappoint. She made a strangled sound in the back of her throat, gasping out a broken version of his name as she tried to arch closer.

"Please," she whimpered. "Too much."

He chuckled. He was just getting started.

He switched breasts, repeating the same torturous play on the other nipple, waiting until she was nearly incoherent beneath him to stop. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath coming in gasping pants as she looked at him through hooded eyes. She was, he thought, quite the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen, and he paused to drop a swift kiss on her rosy mouth before moving lower down her body.

He kissed his way down her neck, pausing to give her swollen nipples a teasing flick of his tongue, before continuing down her stomach. He dipped his tongue into her navel, dragged his teeth over her hipbone. If he had been in a more patient frame of mind, he might have taken the time to explore the rest of her, to indulge his desire to kiss ever inch of her body, but he couldn't now. He was wound too tight, wanting, _needing_ to taste her, and he wasted no time in settling himself between her thighs.

Shit, she was dripping for him.

The curls at the top of her sex were neatly trimmed, revealing the soft pink folds beneath them. They were slick and swollen, glistening with her arousal, and he growled. Her thighs trembled, and he flicked a glance up at her, swallowing hard at the sight of her spread out for him like this. The slightest hint of uncertainty showed in her expression, but she didn't move to stop him, her eyes wide with trust as she looked down at him. His gaze never leaving hers, he lowered his head and took her into his mouth.

He groaned.

God, he'd never tasted anything like her before. She was so fucking _sweet_, and those fucking _sounds_ she made. He traced his tongue through the delicate folds, lapping up the honeyed sweetness that coated them, so far gone that the growls and snarls that left his throat didn't even register with him. He flicked his tongue against her clit, loving the way her hips jerked, the way she cried out his name. He settled his mouth there, suckling the little pearl, just hard enough to have her trembling as she rode the edge of her release.

"Khan," she gasped, her voice desperate. "I-"

He hummed, the vibrations traveling straight through her clit, and she screamed.

"Please!" she mewled.

He stilled for a moment, looking up at her. Her hair was in utter disarray and her eyes were wild, glistening with arousal and tears. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in that moment, and he knew he couldn't deny her any longer. He bit down on her clit at the same time he plunged two fingers into her.

The effect was instantaneous.

Her back bowed, a scream leaving her throat as she came. Her slick walls clamped down impossibly hard around his fingers, hot wetness rushing out to coat them. She was so damn tight, the thought of what her coming around his _cock_ would feel like nearly undid him, and he worked her through her orgasm with renewed fervor.

Never before had his partner's pleasure been so important to him. His lovers had always left his bed satisfied, but what orgasms he had given them had been courtesies, and they had never affected him before, not like this. Her pleasure, her cries — they gave him something even his own release couldn't, and he didn't think he'd ever tire of seeing her like this. He didn't stop the motions of his fingers or the sucking pressure of his mouth against her clit until she had ridden out her first orgasm and was well on her way to the second. Only then did he pull away and make his way back up her body.

He pressed a brief kiss to the marks on her throat, taking a savage sort of satisfaction in the brilliantly crimson bites, before continuing up to her mouth. He kissed her hard, loving that she didn't seem to mind the taste of herself on his tongue. In fact, she seemed more wound up now that she had been before her orgasm, her hands gripping with surprising strength as they pulled him closer to her.

"Need you," she whispered. "Need you to-"

She broke off, her cheeks flushing even darker.

"Sophie-"

"Need you to come."

He almost lost it.

The sound of those words leaving his sweet, innocent little Sophia's mouth made his cock jerk painfully as pre-come leaked from the tip. The knowledge that she wanted his pleasure as much as he wanted hers reached the part of him that was utterly primitive, utterly male. God, she had no idea how much she was fucking _his._

With a muttered curse, he reached between them, his hand seeking out her swollen folds to see if she was ready for him. She was soaked, her entrance fluttering around his fingers, and he wasted no time in replacing his hand with his cock. He pressed the tip against her entrance, pausing for only a moment to meet her eyes.

"Mine," he said roughly. "Say it."

"Yours."

He couldn't wait any longer.

He slowly pushed his way forward, gritting his teeth as her silken walls closed over him. She was so tight to begin with, even more so after her recent orgasm, and it was like fucking his way into a velvet fist. Pleasure that bordered on pain raced through him, coiling low in his stomach and pushing him dangerously close to release. Fuck, he was going to finish before he even got started, and he scrambled desperately to think of something, anything, except the feel of her around his cock. It worked, too, until she made one of her gorgeous whimpering moans, and he grunted as his hips jerked forward of their own accord.

He worked himself inside of her with slow, shallow digs, fighting to keep himself in control. He didn't want to rush, didn't want to hurt her, but the way she was fluttering and clenching around him made it nearly impossible to take his time. When he was finally, finally buried all the way inside of her, he groaned. He could feel every pulse and flutter of her walls around him, and fucking_ hell_, her cervix pressed against his tip, and it took everything in him not to come then.

When he was sure he was back in control of his body, he pulled back, just a little bit, before returning in a sharp thrust. He gritted his teeth. God, it had _never_ been like this, never been this intense. As he fell into a practiced rhythm, hard, deep thrusts that forced her to take every inch of him on each drive, he could feel his sanity slowly slipping away. He needed to come, so goddamn bad, but he didn't want this to stop either. He knew in that moment that no woman would ever be enough for him again, not when he'd tasted this, tasted her. She made everything better, _more_. So much so that the sensations bordered on overwhelming, the pleasure bordered on pain.

The feel of her around him was too good, the sounds she made were too much. The sight, _god_, the sight of her spread out beneath him, open, wanting, was too much. Her back was arched, her breasts thrust up and her head thrown back, pleas falling from her pretty mouth. Her walls fluttered around him, tightening, and he realized she was going to come again.

"That's it, sweeting," he said hoarsely. "Come for me."

He let out a tortured groan when she obeyed, another cry escaping her throat as she fell apart underneath him, her body writhing against the sheets as came. He felt another burst of pre-come escape his cock, his body begging him to follow hers, but he clenched his jaw and forced himself to stay in control. He continued to roll his hips in deep, hard, thrusts, working her through her release and determined to get another one.

"I c-can't-" she whimpered. "T-too much-"

He growled.

"Never enough, sweeting. Never enough. Now give me one more."

He slipped his hand between their bodies, his fingers seeking out her clit to stroke in time to his thrusts. Instantly, he could feel her tightening around him again, a low moan leaving her throat as she arched up to meet him. He could feel his own release building, could feel it coiling at the base of his spine, and he worked her harder, faster, desperate to get her there before he lost it.

"Now, Sophie," he gritted out. "You need to get there _now_. I-"

He cut off with a strangled groan as she came for him one last time, a low, gasping sob leaving her mouth. The feel of her pulsing and clenching around him again, as if begging for his release, proved too much this time, and he followed her over the edge.

He came hard, his orgasm almost painful in its intensity as he buried himself as deep into her body as he could, grunting as his seed pulsed from his cock in long, agonizing spurts. It was too much, his spine bowing and his vision greying while his release spun on for what felt like an eternity. When it was finally over, he barely had the sense to collapse next to her instead of on top of her, his breathing ragged and his body weaker than he could ever remember it being. He reached for her blindly and dragged her to his side.

She was trembling as he moved to arrange her against him, so that she was half draped over his chest with her head nestled in the dip of his collarbone. He pulled her leg over his hip, anchoring her to him, before freezing as he felt her fingers brush his throat.

She would never try to hurt him, of that he was certain, but he'd never before allowed another person's hand so close to his throat. It was an incredibly vulnerable part of the body, even for him, and he'd never felt comfortable exposing himself there. But Sophia, her body nestled against his, the top of her head just brushing his chin, didn't seem to know any of that as she rested her hand there and allowed her eyes to drift shut. He swallowed hard. She looked so fucking perfect tucked against him like this, so damn sweet and innocent, that he felt himself relaxing. She trusted him implicitly, and he would give her the same.

Carefully, so he wouldn't disturb her, he reached for the blanket at the edge of the bed, pulling it over her and making sure she was completely covered. She let out a small sound of appreciation, snuggling even closer, and he felt the itching under his skin return.

"Mine," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "Only ever mine."

**AN: Sorry this took so long to update! Although, if I may so myself, I ****believe the chapter was well worth the wait. God, what I wouldn't do to have Khan all to myself for say...the rest of eternity. The man is pure alpha-male perfection, and the fact that Benedict Cumberbatch plays him just makes it better. Anyway, though there's not much plot development here, I do think that Khan has taken another step closer to being able to admit his feelings properly, and I hope you all enjoyed it!**

**As always, please review!**


	12. Chapter Eleven

**AN: I debated for a long time about how I wanted this chapter to go. I knew I had to get us from 2258.191 to approximately 2258.300, and I wasn't sure how I wanted to do it. In the end, I figured a time-jump was the easiest and most logical way to do it, so here we are about three months later. Of course, Khan is still Khan, no matter that he's "in a relationship" now, and god, I just want him even more with every new chapter that goes by.**

**Again, sorry for the super late update, and I promise the next chapter is already on its way!**

Chapter Eleven

2258.293

She would never get tired of this.

Sophia hummed softly, lifting her head to press a kiss to the underside of Khan's jaw. The two of them lay on her bed, the covers abandoned at the footboard, and their clothes long since forgotten on the floor. The clock on her nightstand read four o'clock in the morning, and she knew that the peace that settled around them wouldn't last for much longer. Before another hour had passed, Khan would inevitably wake, kiss her goodbye, and then leave before anyone realized he'd been here.

But until then, he was all hers.

She sighed contentedly, settling once more against his side. It wasn't often that she had moments like this. Usually, it was he who woke first, and she would awake to the feel of his lips at her temple, his fingers tracing lazy designs on her back, her stomach, her hips. It was, she thought, the most pleasant way anyone could wish to start their mornings, and she did not mind one bit. But she treasured these moments too. These moments when the only light came from a mixture of city lights and moonlight streaming through the window, turning his alabaster skin to marble and highlighting his raven hair in silver. When the only sound in the room was the gentle rhythm of their breathing and, if she pressed her ear to his chest, the steady beat of his heart. Most of all, she treasured the peacefulness on his face, the absence of the tension and worry that lined his expression whenever he was awake. It was only when he was sleeping that he seemed completely at ease, and she adored these small snatches of time where he finally seemed to be able to relax.

The last few months had been trying for both of them, but him especially. Marcus was forever throwing new projects his way, forever hounding him to work harder, faster, on the _Vengeance_. Even worse, he seemed to find it amusing to torture Khan with threats to his crew on a regular basis, and Sophia could sense Khan's anger and frustration growing by the day. He never spoke to her about it, certainly never let his anger color his words or his actions when he was with her, but she knew anyway. She could hear it in his voice when he spoke about his work, could see it in his eyes and in his posture when she asked him about his day.

"I can hear you thinking."

The quiet rumble of Khan's voice startled her out of her thoughts, and she jumped at the sudden interruption to the silence. The warm sound of his laughter followed, and she felt her cheeks heat with a blush.

"I didn't realize you were awake," she said sheepishly.

Instead of answering her, he shifted into a sitting position, leaning back against the headboard before reaching for her. He didn't say anything as he pulled her onto his lap, arranging her so she was draped against his chest, one leg over his hip and her head nestled into the curve of his shoulder. His arms circled her waist loosely, one hand toying with the ends of her hair, the other resting on the small of her back. She sighed contentedly.

She would never have guessed that Khan would be such an affectionate person, would never have thought him to be so openly demonstrative. And, in a way, he wasn't. He was, she thought with a smile, absolutely abysmal when it came to words. The only remotely romantic word in his vocabulary was "mine" and even that was said with more possessiveness than sentimentality. Expressing emotion seemed to be the one skill that he hadn't completely mastered, and more often than not, he didn't bother to try. He was still every inch the unapologetically dominant man he had been when she'd first met him, and it didn't seem likely that that would ever change.

Which was, she'd come to realize, why he was so physically inclined. What he couldn't or wouldn't give her with words, he gave her with his body. It was a rare moment that he wasn't touching her in some way — his hand in her hair, his arm about her waist, his fingers laced with hers — and she knew that that was his way of letting her know that his verbal reticence had no bearing on his feelings for her.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" he asked, fingers stilling in her hair.

She smiled.

"Your complete ineptitude when it comes to verbal affection.

Far from being offended, he merely rolled his eyes, his fingers resuming their gentle carding through her sleep-tangled waves.

"If you wanted someone weak, you would have taken up with a human."

It was her turn to roll her eyes, and she did so with great exaggeration. Something else the last three months had taught her was that Khan's ideas of Augment superiority didn't seem to have been at all affected by the fact that she herself was not one of them, and he disdained humans as much now as he had when he'd woken. When she'd mentioned the subject to him once, he'd simply replied that she was a special sort of human, an exception in a sense, and hadn't seemed inclined to explain himself further than that. Whether or not she was to feel flattered or offended, she hadn't been sure, but she'd settled on the former. It wasn't like arguing the point would get her anywhere. Trying to get Khan to talk about feelings was like trying to move a brick wall — immeasurably frustrating and utterly pointless.

"Maybe I will," she said after a while. "Take up with a human."

She wouldn't of course. She loved him more than life itself and hadn't so much as looked in another man's direction since she'd met him, but she couldn't help but call his bluff. Partly to tease him, mostly to irritate him. More often than not, she found his complete confidence and self-assurance incredibly attractive, yes, and she knew he acted that way simply because it was the way he was. But other times, now for instance, she knew he was being cocky simply to needle her, and she wasn't above sinking to his level.

The low growl that rumbled from his chest told her that her efforts had been duly appreciated.

"Sophia," he said warningly.

"There was this cute epidemiologist that stopped by the lab last week for instance."

"Do you want this epidemiologist to keep breathing? If so, I suggest you forget he exists, let alone the fact that he's _cute_."

"-really buff too. Uh huh, tall and muscled and _everything_."

"I could kill him easily, and we both know it."

"-even asked me for my number. I said-"

"No. Of course."

She paused. Instead of sounding angry, he sounded incredibly amused. His voice had gone from furious to laughing in the space of a second, and she bit her lip. Laughing Khan was ever so much more dangerous than growling Khan. She avoided his gaze when she spoke next.

"And how do you know that?" she asked, injecting a bravado into her voice that she certainly didn't feel.

"Because sweeting, he is not _me_."

And with that, she was no longer snuggled up against his side. Faster than her eyes or her brain could process, he flipped them over, reversing their positions so that she lay on her back and he hovered over her. His body caged hers to the bed, and he seemed to take great satisfaction in her sudden intake of breath. Dropping his head, he ran his nose down the curve of her jaw, pausing when his reached the hollow of her throat.

"He is not me," he repeated.

"Which means," she challenged, working not to tremble as he dropped a swift kiss there.

"Which means that he could never be what you need."

His mouth left neck, and he trailed a line of sharp, stinging bites up her jaw. The first stirrings of arousal flitted through her body, and she let out a small moan.

"He can't excite you like I do," he whispered.

He moved on to her mouth, his lips taking hers in a hard kiss that instantly had her wet, wanting.

"He can't kiss you like I do."

His arctic eyes were blazing as he ran his mouth across her cheek, her eyes, down the bridge of her nose. His body, corded steel above hers, pressed closer, and she let out a helpless whimper. An answering growl slid from his chest.

"He can't touch you like I do."

His mouth slid to her ear.

"He can't _fuck_ you like I do."

She cried out, arching desperately under him in a bid to get closer. Her body was on fire, and she could feel the wetness between her thighs. Her hands itched to bury themselves in his hair, to grasp his shoulders — anything to pull him closer — but like always, he seemed to know what she was thinking, and one hand shackled both of her wrists above her head before she could so much as move them.

"Oh, sweet girl. You don't think you can tease me like that and not be punished, do you?"

His voice was pure sin, and the look in his eyes was nearly enough to make her come right then.

Sophia had never thought of herself as an extremely sexual person. She could count on one hand the number of boys she'd kissed, didn't need more than two to count the number of people she'd ever felt attracted to, and she'd been a virgin before she'd met him. She didn't think it was because she was shy or prudish, however, or even entirely because of her schooling and career. Rather, it was because sex had never really been important to her, and her body had never seemed to want or need it.

Khan had changed all of that.

He could make her want him with nothing more than a gaze, could have her riding the edge with nothing more than his voice and the wicked things he whispered to her. His aversion to verbal expression seemed to have no bearing on the absolutely carnal things that, when said in that impossibly deep voice of his, seemed to bypass her ears and settle straight between her thighs. His dominant nature always appeared to be at its strongest during sex, and she sometimes got the feeling that, as much as it was his way of expressing his affection, it was his way of assuring himself of hers. To him, her submission was an acknowledgement of her trust and her love for him, and she never hesitated to give it to him when he asked for it.

"Khan, please," she whimpered.

"Mm, so pretty when you beg."

He dropped his head abruptly, taking her nipple into her mouth, and she arched up with a strangled cry. Her hands fought his hold, desperate to touch him, but his the steady pressure pinning her wrists above her head never faltered. And, rather than frustrating her, her inability to move her arms only drove her higher, and she let her moans fall unchecked from her mouth as she writhed underneath him.

Khan took his time toying with her, his mouth leaving her breast only to find her neck, his teeth leaving punishing little nips all along the length of her throat. He ghosted a kiss over her lips, teasing. Desperate, she flicked her tongue along the seam of his lips, relief flooding her when he finally, _finally_ gave her his mouth. He kissed her hard and deep, asking for nothing and demanding everything. She whimpered when he pulled away.

"Khan-"

"Keep your hands there."

She didn't have time to question him before he released her wrists, his own hands going to her hips before-

She screamed.

Her back arched, and her hips fought his hold as he pinned them to the bed. He growled appreciatively, suckling her clit briefly before thrusting his tongue into her. Without her conscious approval, her hands left the headboard, reaching for him. But, before her fingers could wind themselves into his hair, he bit down on her clit hard, punishingly. It should have hurt, it did, but rather than pulling her back, it pushed her over the edge. She cried out as her orgasm ripped through her, her cry turning into a choked scream as he reared up and plunged into her with one smooth thrust.

"Naughty girl," he crooned, rolling his hips against hers and forcing himself deeper.

He was large, and taking him completely always had her balancing on the knife's edge between pleasure and pain. She could feel him now, pressed against her cervix, and she whimpered softly, struggling beneath him as she tried to ease the pressure.

"Hmm, I don't think so sweeting."

He pressed harder, ignoring her distress as he worked his way deeper. Something akin to a purr escaped his throat, and he dropped sweet little kisses all along her brow, down her cheek. He kissed her for a brief moment, biting lightly at her bottom lip, before trailing his mouth to her ear.

"You are such a tease," he whispered, finally drawing back, his hips rocking back and forwards in a practiced thrust.

She could only moan in response, but he didn't seem to mind. If anything, his icy eyes burned brighter, his movements became harder, less controlled. An answering groan left his lips, and she felt a second orgasm building in her stomach. It didn't matter how recently her last one had been — the combination of his voice and the things he _said_ in that voice, mixed with those delicious sounds he made — her body was helpless to do anything except respond.

"I think you do it on purpose," he continued. "I think you like me this way."

She gasped, arching frantically as he shifted and rolled his hips so that each thrust scraped his pelvis against her clit. Her release was so close, dancing just beyond her grip, and she knew that it wouldn't take much to send her over. Unfortunately, Khan knew it too, and he deliberately slowed his thrusts, settling into a tempo they both knew wouldn't be enough for her to climax.

"I think you like me jealous," he murmured, nibbling on her ear lobe. "I think you like seeing me get possessive."

"Please," she begged. "I need-"

"Is that true, sweeting?"

He thrust hard, grinding himself against her, and she moaned brokenly. She was right_ there_, unable to come without that last push she knew he was withholding.

"Yes," she gasped. "Please, Khan, I-"

"And why is that? Why is it that you like to see me so possessive?"

His voice ended on a growl, and she knew in that moment that he was as close as she was. She considered for a brief moment playing his game, considered rolling her hips, clenching her muscles around him, but she dismissed those ideas as soon as they'd come. There were much more effective ways of getting him to lose control, and if she was honest, giving him what he wanted pleased her as much as it did him. And so she let her body go lax underneath him, tilted her head back and bared her throat in that submissive way she knew drove him crazy. She met his eyes with hers and gave him the words she knew he'd been waiting for.

"Because I'm yours."

"Fuck, Sophie. Come. Now."

And she did, her vision greying and her hearing receding as her orgasm tore through her. She barely registered the sound of his own release, and she felt more than heard the groan that left him as he buried his face in her neck. It was several long moments later before she felt herself return to her body, and even then, she could do little more than snuggle into his side as he shifted to lay down next to her. Immediately, his arms came around her, and she sighed in content at the feel of his lips against her hair.

"I do believe you will be the death of me," he said, not sounding upset in the least.

"Mm, love you," she answered sleepily.

For a brief moment, her brain panicked at the realization of what she'd just said, already coming up with ways to dismiss her words as incoherent post-sex babble, but the rest of her didn't seem to have the energy to really care. She did love him, and though she'd never said it before, she was certain he already knew, and so she simply pressed closer, placing a drowsy kiss against his chest before closing her eyes. Just before she drifted off, she heard him answer.

"Yours," he said softly. "Always yours."

* * *

She was hallucinating.

She had to be. Or she was on drugs. Maybe she'd finally caught one of those rare diseases she was forever working with, maybe she'd fallen asleep at her desk and was dreaming. Whatever the reason, she knew that there had to be something wrong with her brain, knew that there was no way she was in a rational state of mind, because there was no other reason for Spencer to be sitting across the lab table from Mark.

She hadn't seen Spencer since the day Khan had broken his hand in the Archives. She'd been fired the very next morning, and she hadn't run into him while packing up her stuff. He looked exactly the way she remembered, his brown hair and brown eyes so very different from Khan's far more dramatic coloring. He looked up at her as she entered, standing abruptly from his chair.

"Dr. Summers," he greeted.

"Dr. Adams," she returned, numbly. "How-"

"Perhaps this is a discussion best continued in your office?"

Mark, who seemed to have had tuned the two of them out completely, looked up at that, frowning.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he said, his green eyes hard behind the old-fashioned glasses that were forever perched on his nose. "Whatever you need to discuss with Dr. Summers, you can do so here."

She actually pinched herself. Not caring if she looked like a complete idiot, she pinched her forearm, hard, willing herself to wake up or to get off of whatever high she currently on, because Mark didn't speak to her, let alone protect her. The only thing her actions earned her however, was a sore forearm, because when she opened her eyes, Mark was still glaring at Spencer, and Spencer was still glaring right back. Sighing, and desperately wishing she'd taken Khan up on his teasing offer to keep her in bed all day long, she waved her had in assent.

"It's fine, Mark. Dr. Adams and I know each other from my time with Admiral Marcus-"

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't be alone with him. No offense Sophia, but you looked like complete shit when you got back from whatever job it was you did for the Admiral."

It was, she thought, quite the nicest thing he'd ever said to her. She didn't think he'd noticed her absence, much less her condition upon her return, and the fact that he not only had, but had worried over it as well, was incredibly touching. She smiled.

"I'll scream really loud if I need you, okay?"

He didn't look convinced, but Mark waved her off anyway, seemingly dismissing her as he returned to his microscope. If she hadn't become so adept at reading the minute changes in Khan's facial expressions, she wouldn't have noticed the slight clench in his jaw or the tiniest narrowing of his eyes. But she did, notice that was, and it was that knowledge that allowed her to invite Spencer into her office with a steady voice, allowed her to face him without flinching as she closed the door.

"Why are you here?" she asked quietly. "I left the Section months ago. Marcus should have no reason to be checking up on me-"

"He's not. I came on my own."

It was the last thing she had been expecting, and for a moment, she didn't know how to answer. When she'd first seen him, her immediate thought had been that Marcus had somehow found out about her and Khan, and that Spencer had been there to take her in to him. When that idea had passed, she'd thought that he was there to check up on her, to make sure that she wasn't trying to recreate any of the research Marcus had confiscated form her when she'd left the Archives. The knowledge that he was here of his own free will however, was not something she knew how to interpret, and so she fell silent.

"When you left, Marcus became obsessed with the idea of cloning this Augmented DNA-"

"How much do you know about Augments?"

He didn't answer for a moment, staring intently at her as she struggled not to fidget. Her heart was pounding, and her mind was racing at a million miles per hour, and she wanted nothing more right then than for Khan to be there so he could take care of everything. But he wasn't, and he wouldn't have approved of her hiding behind him if he had been, so she straightened her back and repeated her question.

"What do you know about Augments?"

"I know that it was a genetic program a few decades ago, an attempt to create some sort of super soldier. And I know that Commander Harrison is the last surviving one."

She barely contained her sigh of relief. It wasn't like Spencer knowing about Khan and his past would have hurt them any more than him knowing this fake version, but she didn't like the idea of anyone else being privy to Khan's true history. It felt private somehow, like it was something meant for just her and him.

"Then you know about as much as I do," she answered. "And I don't know what Marcus told you, but he's had me trying to clone Augment DNA since the day I got there, so I don't know why you would-"

"It's impossible to clone their DNA exactly, and I told him that, but now he wants me to create some sort of-, I don't know, magic potion to turn people _into_ Augments. He wants me to recreate the entire Augment project, Sophia."

He took a deep breath.

"And he wants me to run human trials."

She went numb for a second, unsure of how to breathe let alone how to answer. Science and medicine had changed vastly in the last few centuries, but the moral and ethical laws that governed all doctors and researchers had not. And, what Spencer was talking about most certainly did not fit into those laws. There were still human trials for certain drugs before they hit the market, yes, but Spencer wasn't talking about that. Marcus wasn't testing headache medicine on migraine sufferers — he was trying to genetically alter live humans.

"He can't do that," she whispered.

"I know, and that's why I came to you."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't exactly like you Sophia, and I'm not really Commander Harrison's biggest fan either. Honestly, I was in half a mind to ignore what he said that day and to tell the Admiral that the two of you were-"

"We weren't," she interrupted hastily.

He rolled his eyes.

"Bullshit. Harrison was not about to snap my arm off because he likes playing Prince Charming to the rescue. Maybe you weren't watching the same thing I was watching that day, because he had territorial alpha male written all over his face."

"I-," she sputtered, unsure of what to say. "We didn't-"

He sighed again.

"I'm not here to talk about your sex life. I'm here because I need your help. Marcus hired someone else after you left, and this woman…she's crazy, Sophia. Utterly, certifiably insane. I don't know where she got her medical license, hell I don't know if she has a medical license, but she sure as shit forgot to to take her Hippocratic Oath. She's the one who told Marcus to start human trials as soon as we have a viable serum and-. She's getting close, Sophia."

She bit her lip.

She never really thought about what she'd do if she saw Spencer again. She knew that if Khan had been here, he would probably have made good on his promise to break every bone in his body. He wasn't exactly the forgiving sort, her lover, and she had no doubt that Khan would have told her to send Spencer on his way with a loud and resounding _fuck off_. But she wasn't Khan, and more importantly, she was a doctor. In her mind, she silently weighed what Spencer had done to her against the potential loss of human life, and she knew without a doubt that she wouldn't be able to send him away.

"What do I need to do?" she asked quietly.

Spencer looked visibly shocked. His eyes widened just the slightest bit, then narrowed in suspicion.

"You're not bullshitting me are you?" he asked. "You'll actually help me?"

"I don't like you," she answered. "What you did-, I think it was petty, and jealous, and I think that you took it way too far. But I'm a doctor, just like you, and I won't allow innocent lives to be ruined because I want to hold a grudge."

Something akin to respect flickered in his eyes, and he nodded, straightening. He strode over to her, handing her the PADD she hadn't noticed had been tucked under her arm, and proceeded to flip to a series of files until he found the one he wanted. It was Khan's, she realized, modified and updated since she'd left, but the framework that she'd left when she'd been there was still intact.

"This is the basis of the serum Dr. Bruner has been working on," he said, tapping the screen to enlarge the image.

"How am I supposed to change it?"

"You're not. You're supposed to destroy it."

He looked at her now, his eyes searching.

"I can't just steal this research — she'll recreate it and probably find a way to make it even more diabolical. The only way to make her abandon this is to make her think it's futile, the same as cloning the DNA is."

"You want to insert an error into the serum, the same as the spontaneous hydrolysis in the DNA," she realized.

He nodded.

"A counter-drug, if you will. Something I can introduce to all of her samples that will cause them to degrade, seemingly spontaneously, that she won't be able to fix. Something that will make her think that creating a viable serum is impossible. I can't manufacture it there — she'd find out as soon as I started — and you have the only other lab in London capable of creating something so complex on such short notice. Besides-"

"I'm the only other one who knows what's going on."

He nodded again.

"She's already searching out candidates for the trials," he said quietly. "I don't think we have more than two weeks."

Whether he had said that only to gain her cooperation, she wasn't sure, but she knew she couldn't refuse. Silently, she flipped through the rest of the file, trying to memorize any details she thought she would need.

"Keep it," he said, seeming to know what she was thinking. "That way I can communicate with you as well."

"How-"

"Marcus trusts me a whole lot more than he trusted you."

If it was meant as an insult, he didn't say it like it was one, and she didn't take it that way either. Instead, she nodded, accepting it, and tucked the PADD away in a locked drawer in her desk. It wasn't like anyone else came into her office, but she wasn't about to take chances with what was essentially Khan's entire genetic profile copied onto a computer.

"I'll see what I can do," she said when she turned back to Spencer. "If I can create your counter-drug, I promise you I'll do it."

"Thank you," he answered quietly. "I know it's a lot to ask, but-"

"I would have done the same."

He nodded and turned to leave, but, just before he reached the doors, he paused.

"I wouldn't have done it, you know," he said, so softly she barely heard him. "That day in the lab. Until you left, Marcus wouldn't tell me anything, and Harrison never so much as looked at me. I was frustrated, and I wanted to scare you a bit, maybe even make you leave."

He took a deep breath.

"But I would never have truly hurt you."

He didn't wait for an answer before he left, simply walked away.

Leaving her to stare after him long after the doors had closed.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

2258.302

He was tired.

Khan would never admit it to anyone, but he was tired, exhausted, really. Tired of working for a cause he didn't believe in, tired of playing Marcus's pet. Tired of worrying for his crew every waking second of the day, wondering if the Admiral had kept his word, wondering if they were still alive.

He wasn't stupid. Marcus was never going to give him back his people, not willingly. Arrogance aside, he had done more in the last few months than the rest of the Section combined, and that wasn't something the Admiral was going to let go of. No, Khan had long ago come to the realization that it didn't matter how hard he worked, didn't matter how many projects he completed — there would always be another assignment, would always be just one more thing he needed to do. He would never be free of the Section, would forever be slave to Marcus's will, and sometimes, on his worst days, he wondered whether or not it was all worth it.

He hated himself, of course, when he had those thoughts. They didn't occur often, but when they did, they never failed to put him in a foul mood. These were people who had followed him through war, through death, through exile, who had given him their allegiance and their loyalty, and he considered abandoning them. His own weakness disgusted him sometimes.

He'd already called Sophia to tell her he wouldn't see her tonight. On nights like this, he was best left alone, and he didn't want to upset her with his current mood. And so, instead of going to her apartment like he had almost every night for the last few months, he stayed home. He ate something from the replicator, instead of the fresh food she made each time he went over, and sat down on the couch with a book instead of with her. He read in silence for a while, trying to calm his thoughts, trying to relax.

But, instead of making him feel better, his solitude only worsened his anger and frustration.

No matter his current self-loathing, no matter his desire for some sort of violence, his desire for her was greater. He felt hollow without her next to him, and the itching under his skin returned in full force. For a brief moment, he wondered whether or not it was just her body he craved, but he knew that that was untrue as soon as he thought it. His need for her went deeper than that. He needed her so he could hold her, so he could bury his face in her hair and breathe in her scent. So that he could see her smile and hear her laugh and pretend just for a second that the rest of the world didn't exist. He needed her simply because she was her, because his sweet Sophia made the entire room brighter by doing nothing more than being in it.

Without conscious thought, he reached for his communicator.

She didn't answer the first time he called her, and he felt the slightest tinge of worry. There was, however, a good chance she was in the shower or in the middle of cooking something, and he forced himself to relax, forced himself to wait ten minutes before he called her again. Now that he had decided he wanted to see her, he was eager to do so, and he tapped his fingers impatiently while he waited for her to pick up.

She didn't.

He was truly worried now, his muscles tensed as he sat on the very edge of the sofa and dialed her a third time. Part of him said that he was being overprotective, paranoid even, but another part of him said that something was wrong. Sophia never ignored his calls, certainly never three times in a row, and he had just talked to her an hour ago. She had told him she was staying home, cooking, tinkering a bit in her lab, but nothing that would prevent her from answering her communicator. His mind flashed, for a brief, horrifying moment, to Marcus.

He was almost certain the the other man didn't know about him and Sophia. He went to great lengths to take different routes to her apartment each time he visited her, took great pains to make sure he wasn't being followed. The Admiral did send the occasional spy to check on him, yes, but they were easily avoided, and Khan didn't think he'd ever been spotted meeting with Sophia. Besides that, he'd bought her a new communicator, one he could be sure Marcus hadn't fiddled with during her time in the Section, and had modified his own so that his calls were no longer logged in the Section archives. All in all, there was absolutely no reason for Marcus to ever have found out about the two of them, but if he somehow had, if he knew how much she meant to him-

He was on his feet before he knew he was moving.

He didn't bother to grab his coat, barely took the time to throw on his boots, before he left his building. He stuck to backroads as he ran to her apartment, took the three flights of stairs to her floor rather than the turbo lift. His heart raced as he let himself in, then stuttered to a stop when he found the lights off, the rooms empty. He didn't have to go into the loft to know she wasn't there. For years his survival had depended on his ability to sense the slightest movement, the slightest breath of life, around him, and he knew the difference between baited-breath silence and empty-silence. The latter was what permeated Sophia's apartment, and he fought down a wave of panic.

Fear was something he didn't think he'd ever felt before, not like this. Going into battle brought anticipation and occasional anxiety, yes, but he'd always been confident in his own abilities. He'd always known what he was facing or what he had to do, and that had kept him calm no matter the situation. Now though, now he had no idea what had happened or what he was supposed to do, and he felt true fear for the first time in his life.

He went through the apartment methodically, searching for anything that would tell him where Sophia was. What worried him though wasn't what he found, but what he didn't find. The kitchen was still spotless, the bed still made. Her lab equipment lay exactly where she'd left it the night before, and her notebook still lay open on the kitchen counter. There was no sign of her bag or her PADD, and the shoes she'd worn that morning were still missing from the closet.

She hadn't come home, he realized, or she hadn't made it home. She'd told him she was leaving work when he'd called her, and she didn't live more than five minutes from Starfleet Headquarters. His mind raced through every possible reason for her absence, his pulse pounding in his veins as he left her apartment. The scenario that kept popping back into his head was that Marcus had found out, that he had taken her. Having his crew held captive was bad enough, and he shuddered to think of what Marcus would do if he had his Sophie.

The only place he could think of to start was her office, and he fairly ran the dozen or so blocks to Headquarters. Never before had he been grateful for the new identity Marcus had given him, but he was now. As Commander John Harrison, he was given access to nearly every wing of the base, and he took full advantage of his title as he did nothing more than flash his badge before blowing by security. The medical building lay at the back of the complex, and he made his way there with his body tense in anticipation. He didn't really expect to find anything, not since she'd told him she was leaving an hour ago.

Which was why he was so shocked to hear her voice coming from her lab.

The first thing he felt was relief. He'd never enjoyed being wrong, but he found he didn't mind so much now, not when it meant Sophia was safe. He also acknowledged that he might have gone a tad overboard with the worry and anxiety, but again, when it came to Sophia, none of his rules applied. Every time he held her, every time he made love to her, he was reminded again of how human she was, how fragile. She was so easily breakable, so very, very delicate.

He stood outside her lab for a moment, wondering what he was going to tell her to explain his presence. There was, of course, absolutely no reason for him to be here, and he considered leaving if only to save face. Telling her that he'd panicked because she wouldn't answer her communicator probably wouldn't go over too well. She'd narrow her eyes and put her hands on her hips and give him that look that said he was being a caveman and needed to take it down a notch or twenty. Then she'd tell him that she'd been taking care of herself for twenty-five years and was perfectly capable of doing so now.

He smiled. His Sophia was no pushover. She had a core of steel underneath all that softness and sweet submission, and, if he was being honest, it kind of turned him on. They didn't argue often, but when they did, their disagreements inevitably ended with sex. There was something about the way her eyes flashed, about the way her cheeks flushed and about the way that she growled his name that never failed to make him hard. Besides, no matter that his worry was certainly out of character for Khan Noonien Singh, with Sophia he was just Khan, and he found he didn't mind showing a bit of emotion now and again.

With that in mind, he let himself into her lab.

He'd only been here once before. It was too dangerous for him to spend any great amount of time with her in public, and the one time he had visited, it had been a detour on an errand for Marcus. Still, he knew his way around well enough to know that she spent the majority of her time near the back, fiddling with samples of alien DNA and diseases. He fully expected to find her bent over a microscope, muttering to herself and scribbling on a notepad, and he was not incorrect. What he had not predicted, however, was that Spencer Adams would be sitting next to her.

The two of them were hunched over the table, obscuring whatever it was they were looking at. Spencer appeared to be dictating information, and Sophia was busily writing it down in her notebook. Her brow was furrowed, and she nodded seriously at something he said, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. At her sudden tension, Spencer reached out, putting a hand on her arm.

Khan didn't stop to think before he was moving. He crossed the room in a blur of motion and grabbed the other man by the shoulder. He wrenched him around to face him, enjoying the way surprise turned to fear on his expression, before throwing him to the ground. Fury pumped through him, tightening his muscles, heating his blood.

When Sophia had left the Section, Spencer had been the only doctor left, and Khan had had no choice but to let the other man conduct his tests, take his samples. It had killed him, sitting cross from the person who had put his hands on Sophia, had struck her, and do nothing. With each passing appointment, his hatred had built, his control had weakened. He couldn't begin to count the number of times he'd imaged killing Spencer, and the majority of the methods he'd dreamt up would have made the most seasoned of assassins pale. And now, to find him with Sophia, talking with her, _touching_ her-

"I will kill you," he growled.

In that moment, he didn't care about Marcus, didn't care about the repercussions of his actions. He just knew that he finally had an outlet for the rage that had been building for the last three months, and he fully intended to take advantage of it. He advanced on Spencer, who was struggling to get to his feet, and would have snapped his neck right then and there had it not been for Sophia.

"No!"

She jumped to her feet, throwing herself in front of him.

"No," she repeated. "You don't understand. He's not hurting me-"

"Oh, I can see that sweeting," he sneered. "In fact, I would have said he was trying to get into your bed, except we both know you're not the one he wants to fuck, don't we?"

His words were biting and his tone was sharp, and he watched as hurt flickered across her face. He'd never spoken to her like that, and he felt a brief flash of guilt before his anger overcame it.

She'd been acting strange for the past week, distant, avoidant. When he'd asked her what was wrong, she'd simply responded that she was having trouble at work, and he'd left it that. Part of him had known she was lying, and that same part had demanded that he push until she told him what was wrong, but he hadn't. Her strength and independence were things he admired, respected, and he wouldn't take those things away from her.

He regretted that decision now.

"Is this what you've been hiding from me?" he asked. "Is this what you wouldn't tell me about?"

"Khan-"

"Because I would think that if you were picking a human to fuck, you would at least have been smart enough to choose one who was interested in you."

The words were said with no other intention than to hurt her. He knew she wasn't interested in Spencer, knew for a fact that he wasn't interested in her, but he didn't care. She'd _lied_ to him, had been secretly meeting with a man who had tried to _rape_ her. She'd put herself in harms way and she hadn't even bothered to tell him. Again, the knowledge of how fucking _fragile_ she was flooded him, and his anger spiked even higher.

"Tell me sweeting, can he fuck you the way I do?"

"Enough."

Spencer was on his feet now, and his voice was surprisingly steady as he spoke.

"Enough," he repeated. "I don't give two shits whether or not you're genetically superior or Augmented or whatever the hell it is. You won't speak to her like that."

Khan laughed.

"You struck her, threatened to violate her, and you lecture me on how to treat her? No matter my anger, I would never raise a hand to her, so do not dare to think you have any right to defend her."

It infuriated him, hearing Spencer tell him how to treat his Sophia. Half because what he had said was true, that Spencer didn't deserve to look at her, let alone to speak to her, but half because the other man was right. It didn't matter what was going on — he shouldn't have spoken to her that way, and it galled him to realize that Spencer Adams of all people was calling him on it.

"I did threaten her," Spencer agreed. "And I did strike her. But I've apologized for those things, and Sophia and I have come to an understanding. She's helping me with a project, and I'd like to think that we're friends now-"

It was too much. Khan lunged for the other man, tackling him to the floor and pinning him beneath him. Spencer was smaller than him, certainly weaker, and he took great joy in overpowering him. The savagery he'd held in check for so long, the part of him he'd been forced to mask and control since he'd awoken, bubbled to the surface, and he wrapped his hand around Spencer's throat with relish.

"Khan!" Sophia cried. "Stop! He's right, I'm helping him. Marcus is trying to synthesize some sort of serum using your DNA. He's trying to create new Augments using live humans, and Spencer and I are trying to stop him. Please!"

He turned to look at her.

"Do you think I care?"

The shocked look on her face only heightened his anger, and he sneered.

"Oh, sweeting, do you not know? I was created to be an _animal_. I couldn't care less about what Marcus does to _humans_."

"You don't mean that," she whispered.

He ignored her. Whether or not he did, he wasn't quite sure right then, and he didn't bother to answer before turning back to Spencer.

"I should kill you," he said, tightening his grip on his throat just to emphasize his point. "I should kill you for daring to approach her, daring to speak to her."

And oh, but he wanted to. He could picture it so clearly in his mind, the way Spencer would claw at his hand, desperate for air. The way his struggles would slowly cease, the way the life would leave his eyes. Just the thought of it sent savage satisfaction tearing through him, and he almost did it.

Almost.

Instead, he let the other man go, shoving him away in disgust as he got to his feet. Spencer only took a moment before he was up too, looking calm, if not a bit surprised, despite the bright red handprint that collared his throat.

"I'm assuming you want to talk?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Alone," Khan agreed. "Sophia, go to your office."

He didn't have to turn to see the look of shock and outrage on her face.

"I-"

"Do not test my patience, Sophia. You have already done so enough times tonight."

She left.

"I suppose I should thank you for not killing me," Spencer said once they were alone.

"It was not for your sake."

"I didn't think it was."

The two of them stood facing each other, assessing, judging. Khan knew well enough that he would win any physical altercation between the two of them, he had proven that twice now, but he couldn't help but feel as if he was still at a disadvantage. Spencer had been spending time with Sophia without his knowledge, for what could have been weeks, and it left a hollow feeling inside of him.

"For what it's worth," Spencer said, finally breaking the silence. "I am sorry for what I did. I know words probably aren't enough-"

"Do not tempt me to exact retribution in blood."

"-but I truly am sorry," he finished, seemingly ignoring his threat. "Sophia forgave me, or at least I think she did, but either way, she's a good enough person to help me despite what I did. She was telling the truth when she said that Marcus is trying to create more Augments. That crazy doctor he hired, Stella Bruner, has been creating a serum that will supposedly alter already live humans, and she's looking for test subjects. Sophia's been helping me create something that will destroy the serum, make it unviable, so that Bruner will give up."

Khan thought about that for a moment. It did not surprise him that Sophia would go to such lengths to save lives, and if he was being honest, it did not surprise him that she hadn't told him either. If he had known, he wouldn't have let Spencer anywhere near her, let alone close enough for them to work together, and they all knew it.

"You hurt her," he said quietly.

He could see it in his head again, the way Spencer's handprint had looked on her throat, the cut he'd left behind on her cheek. He could see the fear that had burned in Sophia's eyes, could feel the way she'd trembled against him.

"And yet you came to her for help anyways."

"It was for a cause I believe in," Spencer answered. "To save lives, and even if those lives don't mean anything to you, I think that you can understand why I came back."

And he did. Khan would do whatever was necessary, had done whatever was necessary, to protect his people, and he wouldn't fault Spencer for doing to same.

"I will not forgive you for hurting her," he finally said. "I will never forgive you for that. I should kill you for what you did. It does not matter if she can move past it, because I will not. But-"

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to continue.

"Sophia can help you finish whatever it is you need to stop Bruner. After you're done, you will not speak to her let alone see her ever again, but I will allow you to finish this project."

Wisely, Spencer chose not to speak, merely nodded.

"Now leave," he said.

Khan didn't wait to see if Spencer had followed his order before he turned to enter Sophia's office. The doors hadn't even closed behind him before she spoke.

"I'm not a child," she snapped.

"No?" he questioned.

"I don't have to tell you everything I do, and you don't get to order me around-"

"You lied to me."

He could feel his anger boiling to the surface again. Letting Spencer go had been hard, almost impossible even, but he'd done it anyway. Because, he thought darkly, it wasn't Spencer he was truly angry with. He loathed the other man, hated him even, but in the grand scheme of things, he didn't even register on Khan's radar. Sophia however…he snarled.

"You're not my father," she continued, seemingly unaware of his growing fury. "I don't have to tell you everywhere I go, and I certainly don't have to tell you everything I do."

"Yes," he hissed. "You do."

He advanced on her, forcing her to back up until she hit the edge of her desk. Her eyes widened and her breathing picked up as he pressed up against her, his arms settling on the table on either side of her hips, pinning her. At this angle, she was forced to crane her neck to look up at him, and he waited until she met his eyes to continue speaking.

"I respect your independence, but I will only allow you so much freedom," he bit out.

"Allow?"

She looked livid.

"I'm not your pet," she spat. "I don't sit and stay when you tell me to, and you don't get to _allow_ me to do anything-"

"You don't get it, Sophia."

"-I don't care if you were dictator of the goddamn universe, you don't get to treat me like I'm stupid."

"Sophia," he growled. "Do not be petty. You are far from stupid, and I have never implied otherwise. Where your intelligence disappeared to when you decided to put yourself in harms way without telling me, however, is questionable."

She scowled.

"I'm capable of making my own decisions," she snapped. "Spencer's not dangerous, and even if he had been, helping him was my choice."

"You're not understanding me Sophia. It is not that you put yourself in this situation, you _did not tell me_."

He could feel his hold on his emotions slipping, could feel his control chipping away. His grip on the desk tightened convulsively.

"I can not protect you if I do not know where you are," he continued. "I can not protect you if I do not know who you are with."

"It's not your job to!"

He ground his teeth together.

"Yes," he forced out. "It is."

"I'm not one of your crew. I'm not your _subordinate_, and-"

"_I can not lose you_."

His chest rose and fell rapidly with the harshness of his breathing, and he could feel fine tremors running up and down his arms as he caged her between them.

"I can not lose you," he repeated, voice low. "I will not lose you. And you are right, you are not my crew."

He dropped his head, pressing his face into her hair. He could sense her surprise, both at the action and at the sudden turn in his demeanor, and he pulled back with a wan smile.

"Don't you get it?" he asked softly, meeting her eyes with his own. "I do not know how to be truly happy without my people, Sophia. But you-, Sophie, I do not know how to _breathe_ without you."

He moved one hand to rest against her cheek, his thumb brushing her mouth gently.

"I do not want to control you," he said quietly. "I admire your strength, and I would never take that from you. But I will not tolerate you putting yourself in danger either."

"Khan-"

"Let me finish, sweeting. The last thing I want is to take your independence from you, but if that is what I have to do to keep you safe, I will do it. You may hate me for it, but I will do it if I must."

He gave her a self-deprecating smile.

"I can not give you flowery words, and I do not think I could achieve a romantic gesture if I tried. But whatever else I have to give you, it is yours, sweeting. I do not know if it is the way I was created or if it is simply my own nature, but my savagery, my rage — they are emotions I feel keenly and powerfully. What I feel for you is no different. The moment you took me to your bed you sealed your fate. I will not lose you, and I will not let you go."

He brought his other hand up now, cradling her face between his palms.

"That is why I am so angry with you. Not because I wish to control you, but because the thought of losing you terrifies me. You do not see it, Sophia, but you are so fragile, so delicate. When you lied to me about where you were and what you were doing, you made it impossible for me to protect you, and that is something I will not tolerate."

She didn't speak for a moment, and he gritted his teeth against the urge to ask her to. He would never say it, but he was at a loss for what to do next, and he just hoped that she'd understood what he'd tried to tell her, hoped she realized than his anger was born of fear, not arrogance. He didn't know how to do love, only knew how to do obsession, addiction, but she had to know that she fucking _owned_ him. Had to know that-

"Love you," she whispered.

"Sophie-"

"I love you."

And then her mouth was no his.

He forgot whatever it was he'd been about to say, hell, he forgot his own goddamn name, because the second her lips touched his, he was lost. The anger that had been simmering inside of him morphed into white-hot arousal in seconds, and his cock throbbed with the sudden need to be inside of her. He let her play for a minute, let her have her way, but then he took charge. With one quick movement, he lifted her to sit on the edge of the desk and stepped between her legs, never once breaking contact with her mouth. His hands delved into her hair, angling her head so he could kiss her harder, deeper.

_I love you._

The words echoed through his head over and over, imprinting themselves in his brain, on his heart, in his fucking _soul_. She knew what he was, what he'd done, and she loved him anyway, and he knew in that moment that he'd do whatever he had to to keep her. He'd fight Marcus, Starfleet — the whole damn universe if he had to, whatever it took to keep her safe, keep her with him. This wasn't obsession, wasn't addiction. It was an all-consuming _need_ that he felt down to the marrow of his bones. She was as essential to him as food, as oxygen, and he kissed her harder, desperately trying to make her understand what he couldn't tell her with words.

He groaned against her mouth, his body aching almost painfully with the need to be closer to her. But no matter how close he pressed, no matter how tightly he held her, it still wasn't enough, and he groaned again, desperate. Frantic hands reached for her dress, and he shoved it up past her hips, too impatient to remove it properly, before tearing off her panties. Immediately, his fingers returned to her, and he shuddered as she felt how wet she was. Without preamble, he plunged two fingers deep inside her.

"Fuck," he growled, his cock jerking as she let out one of her gorgeous moans. "Make that sound for me again, sweeting."

She complied, a desperate mewl escaping her throat as he thumbed her clit.

What was left of his control disappeared in the flames that licked through his body, and he fucked her roughly with his fingers while the other hand worked at his belt buckle. After a brief struggle, he managed to undo it and unzip his pants, a harsh groan escaping him when he freed his cock. Shit, but he couldn't remember ever being this hard, couldn't remember ever needing a woman this badly.

"Please."

Her voice was little more than a whimper, her eyes pleading as they looked at him.

"Please," she whispered. "Need you."

His fingers faltered in their rhythm and his hips jerked involuntarily, and he knew he couldn't wait any longer. Tearing his hand away, he lined himself up with her wet entrance and thrust, hard.

Something broke inside of him in that moment, some fundamental part of him changed, shifted. As he slid home inside of her, felt her slick walls clamp down around him, he realized that he didn't know how to exist without this, without her, anymore. His very world was no longer defined by his own wants and needs, but by hers, by her safety, by her happiness. Whoever he was and whoever he would have been didn't matter anymore, and he shuddered with the force of the realization.

"Mine," he said hoarsely. "Mine."

He couldn't say anything else, couldn't think anything else. His body was no longer his own, and he fucked her in long, hard drives, forcing her to accommodate all of him. She'd stolen his soul, had rewritten the very essence of who he was, and all that remained behind was the animal, the primitive male that knew nothing other than claiming, possession. He took her mouth in a bruising kiss, his fingers digging into her hips as he buried himself in her over and over.

It wasn't long before he could feel her start to tighten around him, could feel the telltale fluttering of her muscles as she prepared to come. The feral part of him wanted, _needed_, to feel her fall apart, to see her come undone, and he worked her harder, faster. He rolled his hips in a practice motion, scraping his pelvis against her clit, and then growled in satisfaction as she came for him. Her body writhed against his, but he held her hips still, pinning her to the desk as he fucked her through her orgasm and then into another.

She was still quivering with the aftershocks of her second release when he pulled out, jerking her off the desk and turning her around. He bent her over the table and slammed home, his knees nearly giving out as he felt her walls clamp down around him.

_Fucking hell_.

She felt so much tighter at this angle, and he could go so much deeper, but he couldn't wait for her to adjust before he was fucking her again. He dropped his head against the back of her neck, inhaling her scent and desperately trying to anchor himself to reality as he lost himself in her body. He was still fully clothed, but he felt utterly naked in that moment, stripped down to the basest parts of who he was. He was more animal than man right then, and the sounds that left his throat spoke no different — growls and groans torn form the deepest parts of him that he muffled against the skin of her shoulder. He could feel his release coiling at the base of his spine, knew that his control was nearly gone. He snaked an arm around her hips, his fingers seeking out her clit.

"Khan," she whimpered, jerking against him as he applied pressure to the swollen bud. "H-hurts. Too m-much."

"Shh, sweeting," he said roughly, too far gone to gentle his voice any more than that. "You can give me one more."

"C-can't-"

He didn't answer her, merely moved his head so that his mouth could find the juncture between her shoulder and her neck. He knew that she was sensitive, knew she was probably balancing right on the edge of it being too much, but he didn't stop. The right sort of pain only drove her that much higher, made her come that much harder, and he continued to stroke her clit as he bit down on her throat.

When she came, it was with a choked scream, her spine bowing as she clamped down around his cock. He followed right after her, his release edgy, painful in its intensity as it ripped through him. He buried himself as deep in her body as he could go, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself inside of her. Hard shudders racked his frame, and he groaned helplessly as his release spun on and on for what felt like an eternity.

When it was over, he lay, panting, draped over her. He pressed soft, reverent kisses to the back of her neck, whispering utter nonsense as he worked up the strength to move. If he had it his way, he wouldn't have, would have stayed there for the rest of eternity, but her needs came first. Carefully, he pulled out of her, shushing her softly as she whimpered. He tucked himself back into his pants, redressing quickly, and then returned to her. Gently, he picked her up, cradling her to his chest as he rounded her desk and collapsed into her chair. He situated her on his lap, tucking her head under his chin, and circled her waist with his arms.

"Khan," she whimpered, arching closer.

"Shh, sweet girl," he crooned.

He carded his fingers through her hair, pressed soft kisses against her temple. Slowly, she calmed, her body relaxing until he thought she might have been asleep. Silence settled around them, and he closed his eyes, utterly content to do nothing except hold her. When he felt the first stirrings of sleep tug at his own mind, however, he knew they had to go. Sighing, he sat up, shaking her gently and calling her name.

"Come on, sweeting. We have to go before-"

Frantic banging sounded on the door.

Khan was up before the his brain fully processed what was going on, placing Sophia in the chair and situating her behind him. A low growl slid from his chest, one that turned into a full-throated snarl as the doors slid open to reveal a wild-eyed Spencer. Disbelief and anger poured through him in equal measure, and he tensed, ready to spring.

"What are you doing here?" he growled. "I told you to-"

"We're too late," he gasped.

He moved to the side, obviously trying to reach Sophia, and Khan barely kept himself in control. Just because he had chosen not to kill the other man didn't mean he still didn't want to, and that combined with the residual high from sex made it nearly impossible to keep from reaching for his throat. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that Spencer didn't seem in any way threatening. In fact, he appeared to be in a daze, his brown eyes wide and glazed.

"Spencer-"

"We're too late," he repeated, collapsing against the edge of the desk.

"What do you mean?"

Sophia was sitting upright now, trembling slightly as she looked at Spencer. Without thought, Khan moved to her side, angling himself so that she was still slightly behind him.

"What happened?"

Spencer looked at her, dazed.

"We're too late," he said hollowly. "We're too late. Bruner started trials."

"But you said we'd have two weeks-"

"I was wrong. Or maybe I wasn't — I don't know if the serum was completely finished. But-"

Spencer shuddered.

"One of the officers in the Section found out something he wasn't supposed to — Thomas Harewood. He said that he was going to report Marcus to Command. Marcus was just going to kill him, but Bruner said she had a better way."

"She tested the serum on him?" Sophia asked shakily.

Spencer actually laughed, the sound crazed, maniacal.

"No, Sophia. She tested it on his daughter."

**AN: This chapter turned out longer than I expected (though I'm not sure that's a bad thing), and I spent a long time re-reading it, wondering how it was going to be received. I know a lot of you hate Spencer, hell, I kind of hate Spencer, and I know some of you might hate the fact that he's made a comeback. But I've thought about it a lot, and he's necessary to the plot, not just now, but later too, and I hope you all can find it in yourselves to forgive him like Sophia has. I promise that he'll prove himself in the future.**

**As for Khan... Someone made a comment once that if were ever to fall, he would fall hard, in the all-consuming, soul-shattering way that only our dominant, alpha-male Augment could. I agree. Khan doesn't do half-assed. As to why he let Spencer go then, like he said in the chapter, he might hate Spencer, but it's not really him that he's angry with. It's Sophia and her humanity, her fragility, and the realization that while he might be invincible, she isn't.**

**Anyway, even if this chapter angered you a bit, please try to bear with me, and I promise it'll get better later on. As always, please review, even if it's to tell me how much you hate Spencer and think I'm awful for writing him back in, and I hope you all enjoyed this!**


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